


sleeping with ghosts

by grumpeaches



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, False Memories, M/M, Pseudoscience, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpeaches/pseuds/grumpeaches
Summary: When Peter gets caught up in a big science project, Johnny sees his best friend less and less–– and then not at all. Johnny finds himself standing outside of Horizon Labs one night, with no idea how or why he ended up there. He doesn't think much of it at first, but things just keep getting weirder after that. He can't shake off the feeling that he's forgotten something important, butwhat?





	sleeping with ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> is this a teen wolf 6a AU, you ask? yes... and no. i definitely got the whole 'person is erased from existence and forgotten by loved ones' from teen wolf, but it was also inspired by _the amazing spider-man #590_ (1999), in which johnny was made to forget spider-man's secret identity, but yet continues to feel like he should know who spider-man is and gets upset when he finds out that he _did_ , in fact, once know, and that the knowledge was taken from him.
> 
> this is my first contribution to the spideytorch fandom, which i'm both excited and nervous about. it's also my first time participating in any sort of big bang, and i've been blessed to have not one, but _two_ artists making art for the fic. shout out to **WICKED** and **ANDY** for being such incredibly talented artists! whenever i hit a block, i'd go back and look at the sketches you guys sent me and it was such good motivation to keep writing. i can't express how amazing it feels to get a glimpse into what people see when they read my work, and i know i've probably said it a million times by now, but i really i couldn't be happier with the art. you can find wicked's art [here](http://wickedends.tumblr.com/post/180479172522/my-spideytorch-big-bang-art-for-the-story) and andy's [here](http://lanvinlouis.tumblr.com/post/180477140379/click-images-for-better-quality-my-art-for)!
> 
> also, a _huge_ thank you to traincat for organising the big bang in the first place. i can't wait to read what everyone else has written as well as cry over all the other brilliant artworks. okay, that's probably enough rambling from me –– happy reading!

Peter’s late. Again.

Johnny tries not to be too upset about it, not when he knows Peter is just busy with work and not blowing Johnny off for no good reason. Still, Johnny sighs loudly, draping himself over the table top and leaning his forehead against the cool surface. It’s a much more dramatic reaction than the situation warrants, but it gets the attention of a passing waitress, and Johnny is pleased to realise it's Lucy, the waitress who’s often on shift whenever Johnny and Peter drop by.

Despite knowing that Johnny’s just fishing for company, she heads over with a sympathetic smile anyway.

“Your boyfriend’s running late again?” she asks, poking lightly at Johnny’s arm.

Johnny groans, turning his head so that he’s facing her, although his cheek remains pressed against the table. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he mumbles petulantly.

“That’s what you keep saying.” Lucy grabs one of the upturned mugs on the table, filling it with coffee from the pot she has in hand. “And yet here he is, late for your date.”

“What, two guys can’t have dinner together platonically?” Johnny’s trying for nonchalance, but knows that he’s missed the mark by the way a single one of Lucy’s perfectly drawn eyebrows lifts sceptically.

“Sure,” she says though, taking Johnny by surprise for all of half a second–– and then he notices the beginnings of a Cheshire cat grin start to pull at her lips and deflates once more. “But I’ve seen the way you and Pete look at each other,” she adds, “and there’s really nothing platonic about that.”

He would like to think that he’s gotten more discreet about his feelings after so many years, but the truth is that Johnny’s always had a heart-on-sleeve approach to life. Once, what feels like almost a lifetime ago, Peter had said that he liked that about Johnny.

He'd spent the night before their high school graduation at Peter’s, the pair of them sprawled over Peter’s bed, worn out after one too many video games. Johnny can still recall the weight of Peter’s legs, thrown carelessly over his own. He’d made a half-hearted attempt to untangle himself, but then Peter had hooked his foot around Johnny’s ankle and he had stilled immediately.

“You’re sad,” Peter had pointed out, dragging his foot slowly up Johnny’s calf.

Johnny had let him at first, the heat of Peter’s skin comforting until suddenly it wasn’t, until it started to feel like a mockery of all the things Johnny wanted but couldn’t have. He had pulled away then, rolling away from Peter to put some distance between them. “I’m not sad,” he’d said, even though he had been.

He was sad, sure, but mostly Johnny had been scared. Peter had already been accepted to ESU, had his entire career and life planned out it seemed. Johnny, on the other hand... he had no idea what he wanted to do, and he couldn’t shake off the fear that Peter was going to leave him behind.

“Don’t lie to me,” Peter had said, “I can tell when you’re sad.” He reached for Johnny then, fingers curling around Johnny’s bicep. Despite himself, Johnny shivered. “I can tell when you’re happy,” Peter continued, tugging at Johnny lightly until they were facing each other once more, “I can tell when you’re angry, or hurt, or excited. I like that about you.”

Johnny had heard the words _I_ , _like_ , and _you_ , and his mind had gone embarrassingly blank. “What?”

It must have been a trick of the light; the way Peter’s cheeks had looked like they had been dusted with pink. “I’m not great with people,” Peter had shrugged, half-smiling at his own expense, “I can’t tell how they feel and sometimes I say the wrong thing because of it. But never with you.”

“That’s not true,” Johnny had pointed out with a laugh, because otherwise he might have done something crazy, like kissed Peter, “You have plenty of foot-in-mouth moments with me, too.”

Peter hadn’t risen to the bait though, watching Johnny long enough that the smile slid right off his face. And then when he had been sure he had Johnny’s attention, said, “I’m offended that you think we’re going to stop being friends just because I’m going to college and you’re not.”

If it weren’t for the fact that Peter seemed to be completely oblivious to Johnny’s feelings for him, Johnny might have suspected his best friend of being a mind reader. Of course, it was entirely possible that Peter was, in fact, aware of Johnny’s giant crush and only pretended to be clueless to avoid the awkwardness of having to reject him. Johnny really hoped that wasn’t the case though.

Johnny had watched, unmoving and unblinking, as Peter reached for him, felt the feather-light brush of Peter’s fingers against his face and almost forgot how to breathe.

“Go to sleep,” Peter had said, touch soft and gaze even softer, “I’ll still be here when you wake up tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after _that_.”

Peter hadn’t meant it like that – he _knows_ – but Johnny hadn’t been able to help himself from closing his eyes and imagining a future in which he got to wake up to Peter every day. It hadn’t been a question, but Johnny had responded with a quiet _okay_ anyway, and that had been that; Peter pulled up the covers over the both of them and they settled down to sleep.

Johnny doesn’t think he could ever forget the memory of waking up to a still-asleep Peter, bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. He's woken up to the sight of countless other people – mostly strangers – in his bed over the years since then, but it’s not the same. They’re only a temporary fix to Johnny’s tendency to recall that one specific memory of Peter whenever he stares at the empty space of his too-big bed for too long; a band-aid over a bullet wound.

“Poor Johnny,” Lucy coos, drawing Johnny’s attention back to the present, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Peter’s noticed.” There’s an edge of teasing to her voice, one that Johnny picks up on, if the half-hearted glare he sends her way is any indication. “Will you stop sulking if I bring you some fries? On the house.”

Johnny perks up at that, sitting up finally and flashing Lucy his most charming grin. “I love you,” he says, sounding completely serious.

Lucy only laughs, waving off his affection, “Save that for Pete.”

They’re interrupted by the sound of Johnny’s phone buzzing as a text comes in. “Speaking of Pete,” Johnny mutters as he opens the text, “he’s finally on the way. Can I get a––”

“Double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings for Peter, and a short stack of blueberry pancakes for you,” Lucy interjects, familiar with the pair’s order, “I know.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate milkshakes,” Johnny adds, grinning.

“Only if you leave a generous tip,” she retorts, laughing as she jumps out of the way of the packet of sugar Johnny throws at her.

And then Johnny’s alone again, but he minds it less now that he knows Peter is on the way. It’s almost funny. If anyone had told sixteen-year-old Johnny that ten years in the future he’d be sitting alone at a diner waiting on Peter Parker so that they could have dinner together, he probably would have hurt himself laughing.

He’s distracted from his thoughts when Lucy returns, and Peter slides into the seat across his just as she’s placed all the food down. He’s dishevelled and slightly breathless, and a smile tugs at Johnny lips at the thought of Peter running to get to the diner as fast as he can.

“Right on time,” Peter grins, immediately reaching for the onion rings. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

“Hey, I was the one who ordered it for you!” Johnny cries indignantly, “And I’ve been waiting here – all _alone_ , mind you – for an entire _hour_.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Lucy says, already turning to go, “Have a good meal, boys.”

“Thanks for waiting, Johnny,” Peter says once Lucy is out of earshot, “I know I keep running late, and I know you hate being alone, but it’s just been so busy lately at the lab.”

Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t mind Peter’s recent flakiness, but looking at his best friend now – skinnier than usual, dark bruises underneath his eyes – Johnny finds it hard to hold onto the annoyance. “Never mind me being alone,” Johnny says, although Peter is absolutely right about how much he dislikes being on his own, “I just worry about you.”

Peter pauses, fingers hovering near his mouth where he’s just stuffed about four onion rings in one go, eyebrows drawing together in mild confusion. “You worry about _me_?” Peter asks once he manages to swallow the mouthful of food, sounding incredulous at the idea of Johnny being concerned for his sake.

“Yeah,” Johnny shrugs, cutting into his pancakes and hoping that the flush he feels creeping up his neck isn’t visible. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I had lunch!” Peter retorts, but quickly deflates at Johnny’s knowing gaze. “...Yesterday.”

“Peter!” Johnny cries in disbelief, the words _no, Pete, a chocolate bar does_ not _count as lunch_ dying in his throat. “This is your first meal in over 24 hours?”

“Well, when you put it like that...” Peter trails off, sheepish.

Johnny stabs at the cut pieces of his pancakes with his fork, holding it out to Peter. “You’re so much more of a pain to deal with than Franklin,” he says, “and he’s three.”

Peter takes a bite of the offered food, pouting slightly at being told off. Johnny tries valiantly to convince himself that the expression isn’t cute on a grown man. Spoiler alert: he fails.

“It’s just... this is too important to mess up, you know?” Peter mumbles.

Johnny sighs. “I know,” he placates, “You guys are going to revolutionise the energy industry and all that.”

“Limitless clean energy!” Peter exclaims, excitement bubbling over for all of two seconds before he slumps into a slouch once more. “I don’t know why we thought five people was enough for a project of this magnitude though.”

“You guys are a bunch of nerds who think too highly of themselves, that’s why,” Johnny teases, but then continues in a slightly more serious tone, “Real talk though, you’re doing great things, but you have to remember to take care of yourself too.”

Peter looks like he’s going to protest some more, but then he catches Johnny’s gaze and immediately softens. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll try to be better.”

Johnny doesn’t miss the deliberate phrasing, but he knows Peter well enough to know that this is the closest he’ll ever get to a promise and so he lets it slide, simply nodding in acknowledgement.

“Enough about me though,” Peter continues, “Did you hear back from that casting director?”

“No,” Johnny sighs, stabbing at his pancakes with a little bit too much force; he winces at the sound of his metal fork scraping against the plate, worried for a moment that he might have cracked the ceramic. “But I heard that they found someone else for the part.”

“Johnny...” Peter starts, but Johnny just shakes his head.

He lifts the pancakes to inspect the plate underneath, relieved to find it intact. He can’t afford to pay for a broken plate –– _literally_. Even with his gaze on the pancakes, he can almost _feel_ Peter’s concerned gaze directed his way. Fighting the urge to sigh again, Johnny looks up with a small smile instead.

“It’s alright,” he says, “I wasn’t that interested anyway.”

It’s a lie, of course, and Peter looks like he wants to call him out on it. But something about his expression must make it clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it, because Peter’s expression falters for a moment before he grins, nudging at Johnny’s foot lightly under the table.

“Maybe this is just fate’s way of telling you that you’re destined for something bigger,” Peter says.

“Maybe,” Johnny relents. Even if he doesn’t quite believe it, it’s clear that Peter does though, and for now that’s enough.

He doesn’t know where Peter’s faith in him comes from. Johnny knows Peter, knows that his academic inclination – or lack thereof – means nothing to the other man, but there are still days when he feels painfully inadequate –– here Peter is, on the cusp of a scientific breakthrough, ready to use his genius to make the world a better place.

And then there’s Johnny. All he’s good at is taking pretty photos, but now even that isn’t quite working for him anymore and he’s quickly realising that he can only go so far in life by virtue of having a pretty face.

But he tries not to dwell on that too much. Part of the reason he dislikes his own company is because his thoughts get so loud sometimes, and maybe it would make things better if he just acknowledged these fears and insecurities, but Johnny’s never been good at admitting to weakness.

 _Fake it till you make it_ , right?

It’s easy to forget about the anxieties over his future when he’s with Peter though. Even if occasionally the remnants of Johnny’s decade-old envy of Peter resurface, those feelings pale in comparison to the overwhelming fondness he feels towards the damn nerd now.

“Hello, Earth to Johnny?”

Johnny’s drawn from his thoughts by the snapping of Peter’s fingers right in his face, which he promptly pushes away. “What?” he says, feigning innocence, “I’m listening!”

“Uh huh, sure,” Peter says, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest, “What was I just talking about then?”

Johnny glances around the diner, hoping it’ll somehow either jolt his subconscious memory so that he can recall what Peter had been rambling on about, or at least give him some inspiration for an educated guess. His gaze lands on the television screen above the bar counter, where the second movie of the original Spider-Man trilogy is playing.

“You were complaining about the inaccuracies of the science behind Spider-Man again,” Johnny wagers a guess, grinning triumphantly at the way Peter’s face falls, confirming that he’s right.

“That was just a lucky guess,” Peter accuses, but doesn’t argue any further than that, letting Johnny have his victory in favour of picking apart comic book science once more, “But seriously. There is no way getting bitten by a radioactive spider would give anyone super powers. If that happened in real life, he’d die.”

“Or so you’ve told me about a million times by now,” Johnny replies, trying not to be too obvious about how endearing he finds Peter’s frustration. “I’m sure most people are aware that the science is... questionable, but we’re not all nerds who don’t know how to tell the difference between reality and fiction.”

“I resent that,” Peter retorts, reaching out and grabbing Johnny’s half eaten stack of pancakes. “Are you going to finish these? No? Great, they’re mine now.”

Johnny doesn’t even get the chance to reply before Peter’s already digging in, but it’s not like he would’ve said no anyway. Despite Peter’s slim build, he can easily put away a surprisingly large amount of food. Johnny had been envious of Peter’s metabolism once upon a time – in other words, last Tuesday – but now he just sips on his milkshake as he watches the pancakes disappear.

“Do you need a ride home later?” Johnny asks, releasing the straw from between his teeth.

“I could use a ride, but...” Peter starts, and even though he doesn’t finish the sentence, Johnny can guess what he wants to ask.

“I can drop you off at the lab,” he agrees, though not without a long-suffering sigh to make it clear to Peter just how much he disapproves, “So much for trying to take care of yourself.”

“Love you, buddy,” Peter quips, evidently unaffected by Johnny’s disappointment in him, the asshole.

Johnny wills his heart to still. It’s something of a torture, hearing such expressions of affection fall so easily from Peter’s lips. It’s exactly what he wants to hear, except it also isn’t. But he treasures these moments anyway, even if they have the tendency to leave an ache in his chest.

“Love you too,” Johnny murmurs, hoping that none of the wistfulness or longing he feels bleeds into his voice.

As always, Peter is oblivious.

**––––––––––**

Johnny’s going to kill Peter.

No, wait. Johnny’s going to tie Peter to a chair and make him watch a movie marathon of the most scientifically inaccurate science fiction films, just to make him suffer, and _then_ Johnny’s going to kill him.

He’s cranky, tired, hungry, and he just wants to fall onto Peter’s couch and eat takeout while pretending to pay attention to the movie that’s playing when he's actually watching Peter. But instead, he’s been standing outside Peter’s apartment for over an hour, feeling like the world’s stupidest – and most unimportant, clearly – person ever.

At first he’d thought maybe Peter had fallen asleep after getting home. Johnny knows that Peter tends to sleep like the dead, and given how little sleep he’s been getting recently, he’d figured it was entirely possible that Peter had gone into a sort of mini-coma. But after receiving no response whatsoever despite alternating between ringing the doorbell, texting Peter, and just straight up banging on the front door, Johnny decides the most likely scenario is that Peter just isn’t home.

He gets that Peter is busy, he really does. That’s why he’d texted the man in question earlier that day to confirm that he was good for movie night, giving Peter the chance to postpone. Johnny would have been disappointed, he won’t lie, but he would have understood.

But Peter had assured him that he’d be home by dinner, and Johnny had been looking forward to it the entire day. It’s been a while since he’s had a chance to hang out with Peter, and lately Johnny’s been made aware of how much it sucks to be cancelled on at the last minute.

At least he’d had the decency to cancel before, Johnny thinks bitterly. He unlocks his phone, feeling another surge of hurt at the sight of the dozen unread and unanswered texts he’s sent over the past hour.

_Peter._

_Peter Parker._

_Peter Benjamin Parker._

_Answer your phone, damn it._

_Where the hell are you?_

_Pete, I’m getting a little worried here. Is everything alright?_

_If I don’t hear from you in the next ten minutes, I’m calling Aunt May._

His fingers glide over the keyboard again, and he realises it’s probably a bad idea to text Peter when he’s this upset, but a vindictive little voice in his head tells him that it doesn’t matter because it’s not like Peter will read the text anyway. And then before he can talk himself out of it, he hits send.

_If you didn’t want to hang out with me, you could’ve just said so instead of being such a fucking dick about it._

Clearly Peter’s not going to be home any time soon, and Johnny knows he should probably call it a night and leave. But there’s still a part of him that refuses to accept that he’s been forgotten again. Maybe Peter’s on his way home right now. Maybe the subway broke down again and Peter’s stuck underground with no cell service. Maybe Peter’s phone ran out of battery.

But all the excuses he keeps making for Peter fall through when his screen lights up with an incoming call from Peter Parker himself. Johnny has half a mind to reject the call, especially since he’s pretty sure he already knows how the conversation is going to go –– Peter will apologise, Johnny will say it’s okay even though it isn’t, Peter will suggest rescheduling, Johnny will agree even though he knows Peter will just postpone that too later down the line, Peter will ask if Johnny’s upset with him, Johnny will lie.

This phone call will just be a repeat of the last ten phone calls they’ve had, and Johnny knows he should just spare himself the heartache and not answer, but it’s not like he’s the paradigm of good decisions anyway. He sees Peter’s name on his screen and against his better judgement, accepts the call.

“Johnny!” Peter’s voice filters through the moment Johnny picks up, sounding frantic and apologetic all at once. Not that it does anything to ease the disappointment that seems to have taken up permanent residence as an unpleasant weight in Johnny’s chest the past month.

“Let me guess, you completely lost track of time?” Johnny asks. The anger has bled out of him already – that’s how he’s always been, his ire burning hot but quick – leaving him with a bone-deep weariness that he can’t be bothered to conceal from Peter any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Peter offers, and the tone of his voice makes it clear that even he knows sorry isn’t enough. “It’s just–– Even with all three of us working overtime, we’re still way behind schedule. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Anything you want.”

Johnny wonders if Peter’s forgotten that he had suggested tonight’s movie date to make up for the last time he’d cancelled on Johnny.

“Okay,” Johnny answers.

“Okay?” Peter sounds surprised, as if he’d expected Johnny to put up more of a fight. Johnny’s sudden submissiveness must clue Peter in on just how badly he’s messed up this time, because he barrels on, “Or, actually, I can leave work right now. Maybe stop by that Chinese place where they make the dumplings you like and pick up some takeout on my way back?”

Any other time, Johnny would probably either pick a fight with Peter about what a terrible friend he’s being or happily agree to Peter blowing off work for him, but all of the disappointment from every cancelled hangout has finally caught up to him and he just kind of wants to sleep for the next two weeks and not think about Peter at all.

“No, it’s alright,” Johnny says, “You’re busy, I get it.”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s rare that Peter’s ever struck speechless, and a part of Johnny almost wants to laugh at the fact that he’s somehow managed to shut Peter up. He’s just about to hang up when Peter speaks up again.

“Johnny––” Peter calls, the urgency of his tone giving Johnny pause.

A moment of silence passes, then two, then three. Johnny’s waiting for Peter to say whatever it is he wants to say, but clearly he’s going to remain silent until he knows he has Johnny’s attention.

“What?” Johnny asks, equal parts annoyed and curious.

“I...” Peter starts, and then, “Nothing. Sorry about tonight.”

Somehow, even though he hadn’t even been expecting anything, Peter manages to disappoint Johnny yet again.

“Yeah, alright,” Johnny sighs, and then because he’s got absolutely no self-respect whatsoever, he adds, “Don’t get home too late, Peter.”

And _then_ he hangs up before Peter can say anything else, sighing and leaning back to knock his head against the wall next to Peter’s front door. The dull ache is a welcome distraction from the maelstrom within him at the moment, anger at Peter and frustration at himself coming together in a cacophony of emotions.

“You’re too nice to him.”

The unexpected voice startles him, and he just barely manages to swallow the extremely unbecoming scream that he had almost let out. After the initial scare, he realises that the voice is familiar; unsurprisingly, he finds MJ standing not too far away from where he is, one shoulder pressed against the same wall Johnny is leaning against. He’s only seen her a couple of times after she and Peter broke up, but she’s definitely a welcome sight.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Johnny asks, “Tell him to put aside his very important life-improving research and pay attention to me instead?”

“That’s what I did,” MJ grins, “And when that didn’t work, I threw a hairdryer at him.”

“Is _that_ how he got the black eye?” Johnny’s aware that MJ’s clearly trying to cheer him up, and with anyone else he might stubbornly insist on staying upset, but MJ’s easy humour makes it hard to bite back the smile. “He refused to tell me where he got it from, no matter how many times I asked.”

“Yep,” MJ replies, sounding vaguely pleased with herself.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Johnny says.

MJ snickers. “You’ve got much better people skills than Peter,” she says, pushing off the wall, “I don’t think you could ever get me angry enough to make me throw things at you.”

There’s a weight to her gaze when she looks at him, and Johnny fights the urge to look away, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. She looks like she’s searching for something in Johnny’s expression, and she must find it because her stance relaxes, and she offers him another friendly smile.

“Aunt May sent me over to make sure her nephew isn’t dead,” she says, “And since you’ve saved me the trouble of having to try and get a hold of that idiot myself, let me pay you back with dinner? I thought I might grab something to eat with Peter, but it’s just as well that he’s not around because you’re a lot better company than he is anyway.”

“Flatterer,” Johnny retorts, but there’s no heat in his voice at all.

MJ grins, shrugging. “Is it working though? I actually am starving and I would appreciate having a friend to eat with. So...”

“Let’s go get some Chinese food. Peter mentioned dumplings earlier and now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

MJ rushes forward then, pulling Johnny away from the door. She leads him back towards the elevator, hooking their arms together with an easy affection that reminds Johnny too much of Peter.

“We can talk about all the things we hate about Peter if that’ll make you feel better,” MJ offers, picking up on the slight dip in Johnny’s mood.

It makes Johnny laugh.

“Deal.” 

**––––––––––**

Three days.

Over seventy-two hours of complete radio silence.

After the whole movie night incident, Peter had made more of an effort with Johnny. He still hadn’t been able to tear himself away from work long enough to actually meet up with Johnny, but he’d at least return Johnny’s texts. It kind of reminded Johnny of how things had been back when Peter had been in college; he’d been too busy to hang out back then too, but they’d texted back and forth all day to make up for the lack of face-to-face interaction.

It doesn't make the fact that Peter is too busy with work to hang out suck any less, but Johnny had kept himself busy with other things, such as baby-sitting his nephew, even hanging out with MJ occasionally whenever he needed to talk to someone capable of responding to his attempts at conversation with complete sentences. And Peter had been a constant presence over text, at least.

Until now, anyway.

Johnny had figured that eventually the speed of Peter’s responses to his texts would slow down again, so he hadn’t been too bothered when he hadn’t heard from Peter within a day. But then a day had become two days, and now it’s been three days and his last text to Peter still remains unanswered.

Before he can talk some sense into himself, Johnny finds himself heading to Horizon Labs. It’s not that he’s angry at Peter. Sure, he’s a little annoyed that Peter’s apparently too busy to even send a quick _I’m not dead, just busy_ text, but mostly he’s actually worried that Peter’s somehow managed to hurt himself at work.

For some inexplicable reason, the idiot had decided it was wise to embark on such a big project on his own.

Johnny’s tried, on multiple occasions, to convince Peter to put together a team – _“Maybe then you won’t have to work 24/7 and you’d have some time to spare for me.”_ – but if there’s anyone in the world who’s as stubborn as Johnny is, it’s Peter. Peter’s bullheadedness has come back to bite him in the ass, Johnny’s certain, his mind going wild with increasingly alarming scenarios of Peter lying half-dead in an empty lab.

The impulsiveness of his actions finally hits Johnny when he arrives at the lobby of Horizon Labs, realising that he’ll need to somehow convince security to let him through. Johnny’s expertise lies in talking his way _out_ of situations, not _into_ them, but he’s come too far to give up now.

“I’m here to see Peter Parker,” he announces, attempting to sound as if he knows what he’s doing.

The man behind the counter eyes him, and Johnny flashes his most charming grin.

“You the boyfriend?” he asks, finally.

Johnny’s brain very nearly short-circuits at that, but he forces himself to maintain the grin, nodding, “Yep, that’s me.”

“Thought you looked familiar!” The man –  Louis, according to his name tag – exclaims, suddenly a lot friendlier. “You’re the guy in the photo with Parker on his phone lock screen,” he goes on to explain, at the sight of Johnny’s raised eyebrow, “Parker misplaces his phone a lot and it always ends up at the front desk.”

“Right,” Johnny says. He briefly wonders if Peter is aware that his co-workers think that they’re dating before forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand. “Do you need my ID in exchange for a pass, or...?”

“Oh, no need.” Louis hits a button and one of the electronic gates slides open. “He’s on the sixth floor, lab 47. Follow the signs, you can’t miss it. Good luck on getting him out of the lab though.”

“Thanks,” Johnny calls over his shoulder as he passes through the gate, hitting the button for the lift before muttering under his breath, “I’m going to need all the luck I can get.”

Louis is right. Once he gets onto the sixth floor, the signs are easy enough to follow and he finds himself standing right outside Peter’s lab. His fingers wrap around the knob, and he pauses for a moment to steel himself for the worst case scenario before pushing the door open.

The sound of the opening door seems to startle Peter, who almost knocks half the items off his cluttered desk as he whirls around to face the door. Huh. So he’s alive after all.

Johnny’s not exactly sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not panic. And yet, panic is very clearly written all over Peter’s face as he barrels into Johnny in an attempt to push him back out the door.

“Peter, what are you doing?” Johnny digs his heels into the ground, grabbing at Peter’s hands.

“You can’t be here!” Peter says, gaze darting between Johnny and the hallway.

“It’s okay,” Johnny soothes, “Louis let me in. You’re not going to get into trouble.”

“No, you don’t get it!” Peter snaps, “It’s not safe.”

Okay, now Johnny’s both confused _and_ angry. “No, I don’t get it,” he snaps back, “Because you never tell me _anything_ , Peter! I’m not leaving until you give me some sort of explanation.”

Peter falls silent, but at least he’s not trying to force Johnny to leave anymore. Johnny sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You can’t ignore me for three days straight then start pushing me around when I drop by because I’m _worried_ about you.”

“I can’t tell you what’s going on,” Peter says, frowning at the space between their feet, “It’ll only make you a target, and I can’t–– I won’t put you in danger. So please, _please_ just go, Johnny.”

Nothing of what Peter’s saying makes any sense, and truth be told he’s scaring Johnny a little, but if anything it only makes Johnny more determined to find out what’s going on. “Pete, I’m not leaving without you,” he says, firm, “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

It’s almost painful to watch the way Peter’s face breaks, his eyes falling shut and his nose scrunching as if he’s about to cry. He pulls himself together though, and when he reopens his eyes, his expression is carefully neutral once more. Seeing Peter close himself off like that hurts Johnny, and he takes a step forward to close the gap between them, reaching for Peter.

He’s surprised when Peter doesn’t pull away, only grabbing the hand on his shoulder and pulling it to his face, pressing his cheek against Johnny’s palm.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Johnny asks, his voice soft and his touch gentle as his thumb brushes over the dark circles underneath Peter’s left eye. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

Peter doesn’t respond. Johnny’s this close to just throwing Peter over his shoulder and forcibly dragging him from the lab when suddenly he’s thrown off balance by Peter throwing his arms around Johnny, his own arms instinctively coming up to settle at Peter’s waist, holding him close.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers into Johnny’s ear, “Johnny, I’m so sorry.”

There’s the sound of the elevator arriving on their floor, and Peter abruptly pulls out of the embrace, moving over to close the lab door, locking it and placing a chair beneath the handle. “That won’t hold them for long,” Peter says, and Johnny’s not quite sure whether Peter’s talking to himself or to Johnny.

Johnny reaches out, hands finding Peter’s shoulder and tugging at him so that they’re standing face-to-face once more. His heart’s racing about a mile a minute, but he somehow manages to keep his voice even as he speaks. Whether Peter can hear the absolute terror in it is a whole different story, though.

“Who are they?” Johnny asks, jumping slightly when the door handle starts rattling violently, “Peter, are you in some sort of trouble?”

There’s a loud bang and the entire door shakes. Whoever’s outside must _really_ want to get into the lab. The chair trembles, moving slightly out of position –– a few more blows to the door and it’ll probably fall entirely. Johnny starts to move, wanting to reposition the chair to maybe buy them some time – from what? – but he’s stopped by Peter’s hand cupping his jaw.

Johnny’s attention is drawn back to Peter. He looks so incredibly sad, and Johnny’s momentarily overwhelmed by the realisation of how far he’ll go to keep Peter from ever looking like that again. “This isn’t how I wanted our first kiss to go,” Peter admits, lips lifting in the briefest of smiles despite the tears in his eyes.

Johnny barely has time to register what he’s said before Peter’s lips are on his. It takes a split-second for him to realise what’s happening and then he’s kissing Peter back with equal fervour, desperately pouring all of the unspoken feelings he’s buried over the years into the kiss.

He’s so stunned at the fact that he’s _kissing Peter Parker_ that he doesn’t notice the desperation in the press of Peter’s lips, or the way Peter grips his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. It’s only when Peter pulls away, when Johnny sees that somehow the kiss has only made Peter look sadder, that he understands what Peter is trying to say.

“No,” Johnny pleads, “Don’t say goodbye. Peter, _please_.”

Peter smiles. “You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.”

Johnny still has no idea what’s going on, but he does know that someone’s trying to break into the lab and that the look on Peter’s face is breaking his heart. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Peter cups his face, gently catching the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs. Peter presses his forehead against Johnny’s and even though their pathetic little chair barricade is seconds away from collapsing entirely, Johnny doesn’t rush Peter as he leans in agonisingly slowly for a second kiss.

It’s less frantic than the first one, but it doesn’t ease the ache in Johnny’s chest at all. If Peter had been saying goodbye with the last kiss, then there is no doubt in Johnny’s mind that this one is an apology. Peter doesn’t pull away even after breaking the kiss though, standing close enough so that he fills Johnny’s entire field of vision.

“Johnny, I need you to do something,” he says all of a sudden, urgency colouring his words.

“Anything,” Johnny promises, and means it. He’s always known that he’d go to great lengths to make Peter happy. But now he knows, with absolute certainty, that there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for Peter.

“Remember I love you,” Peter says, just as the door is flung open with an ear-shattering bang and Peter is forcibly torn from Johnny’s grasp.

“Peter!” Johnny yells as Peter is thrown against the wall. There is only one assailant – a man in a mask that covers his entire face – who barely pays Johnny any attention. It’s clear that he’s here for Peter, and when he lifts his arm Johnny’s blood runs cold at the sight of the gun in his hand.

Without thinking, he throws himself at the masked man, and the last thing he hears before he’s blinded by a bright flash of white light is Peter’s desperate yell of _JOHNNY, NO––_

**––––––––––**

Johnny blinks.

Even when his vision finally clears, it takes him a moment to figure out where he is.  There’s a huge decal on the glass door next to him that says ‘HORIZON LABS’ and Johnny frowns, wondering how he’d gotten there; it’s not like he knows anyone who works here.

It’s a little odd, but he’s not too bothered. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone for a late night walk whenever he can’t sleep only to get caught up in his own head and wander off. At least his head is clear now though, and he’s not too far from home.

He must have stood outside the building too long, because the security officer at the front desk comes out to tell him that he’s not allowed to loiter at the entrance.

“Sorry, just got lost in my head for a moment. I’ll be on my way now,” he pauses, gaze dropping to the man’s name tag, “Have a good night, Louis.”

**––––––––––**

“You’re late,” is the first thing MJ says when she opens the door.

“Hi, Johnny,” Johnny mocks, raising his voice slightly in a laughably poor imitation of MJ, “It’s good to see you, Johnny. Thanks for buying dinner, Johnny.”

“Stop being a little baby, Johnny,” MJ retorts in that same high tone, mimicking Johnny.

Johnny feigns offence at that, moving the bags of food in his hand behind his back and out of MJ’s reach. The redhead pouts, and just as Johnny’s resolve weakens, he’s suddenly got an armful of MJ. He raises his arms to hug her back, only to realise his fatal mistake too late.

MJ grabs the food from his hands, darting backwards and laughing as she runs back to her couch.

“Close the door behind you!” she yells at him, and then after a pause, “Thanks!”

Johnny has half a mind to leave the door open just to be petty, but he doesn’t trust the guy who lives across the hall; he’s fairly certain the only reason the creep hasn’t made any moves on MJ beyond staring creepily at her is because he thinks Johnny is her boyfriend. With a resigned sigh, he does as he’s told, closing and locking the front door before making his way to the living room.

MJ’s already taken all the food out of the bags, arranging them on her coffee table. He notices that she hasn’t actually started eating yet, scrolling through her Netflix list on the television instead. She may be acting nonchalant, but they’ve been best friends since they were _teenagers_. Johnny sees right through her.

“Aw, you waited for me,” he teases, dropping onto the couch next to her and throwing an arm haphazardly over her shoulder.

He gets a bony elbow to the ribs for the teasing, but other than that MJ lets him pull her against his side without a fight so Johnny counts it as a win. He squeezes her shoulder lightly before letting go of her, reaching for his burrito bowl as she continues her quest to find a movie.

“Ooh, they’ve got Jurassic World,” MJ exclaims suddenly.

“Is that the one with Jeff Goldblum or Chris Pratt?”

Johnny’s got his face practically in his food, but even without looking he can _feel_ MJ’s judgemental gaze. He ignores her until she gives up trying to stare him down with a sigh. “Pratt,” she informs him, “Shouldn’t you know this? I thought he was your celebrity crush.”

“Nope,” he replies, “Chris _Evans_ is my celebrity crush. Chris Pratt is––”

Johnny turns to his left with a laugh, only for his mind to go blank at the sight of the empty space next to him. He frowns, there’s something on the tip of his tongue–– a name, perhaps. Someone whose celebrity crush is Chris Pratt. But no matter how hard he tries to recall what he’d been about to say, he comes up empty.

“Harry’s the one who likes Chris Pratt, probably,” he says in the end, even though a part of him feels like that’s not quite right.

“Probably,” MJ concedes, “So are we watching this then?”

There’s still a lingering sense of _wrongness_ , but Johnny doesn’t see the point in dwelling on that when there’s no real discernible reason for it. He’s probably just tired, or something. “Yeah,” he agrees, digging into his burrito bowl once more, “Chris Pratt and dinosaurs. Sounds great.”

“Thought so,” MJ grins, hitting play and grabbing her food before settling down on the couch, her shoulder pressed against Johnny’s.

Against his better judgement, his heart does a traitorous little flip in his chest. There’s an irrational fear that somehow she might feel the way his pulse jumps every time her arm brushes against his. It’s ironic. He’s Johnny Storm. He has plenty of people who would trip over themselves for the opportunity to date him, but here he is, pining for the one person he can never have.

MJ’s his best friend, has been ever since they were dumb kids in high school. Johnny still remembers it clearly. Sophomore year, they were playing field hockey during gym class and James Sanders had slammed into Johnny hard enough to send him flying. Caught off guard, Johnny had almost cracked his skull open on the ground, his vision swimming with spots of black. He remembers MJ appearing out of nowhere and tackling James––

Wait, no.

That’s not right. MJ hadn’t fought James, that had been... no one. Okay, so maybe Johnny doesn’t remember it _that_ clearly, but he’ll blame that on the concussion. MJ did accompany him to the nurse’s office though. And for some reason, even after it was clear that Johnny would be fine, she’d stuck around.

They’ve been together ever since. A matched set. Johnny and MJ.

That’s why Johnny’s kept quiet about his feelings for so long, unwilling to upset the balance of their friendship. She’s the most important person in his life outside of his family, and he’s not willing to lose her over something as stupid as _romantic feelings_ when they’ve already got a good thing going on. It’s better this way, or so he tells himself, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that accuses him of simply being a coward.

“Are you even watching the movie?”

He startles at the sound of MJ’s voice – so close to his ear, too – interrupting his thoughts about her. Johnny feels his entire body go warm, hoping to any higher power who’s listening that MJ isn’t any sort of a mind reader. If she is, that would mean she already knows about his feelings for her, but that doesn’t make the thought of her knowing he’d just been thinking of her right at that very moment any less mortifying.

“Yeah, I’m watching the movie,” he retorts, attempting to cover up how frazzled he is with his usual bravado.

MJ rolls her eyes at him, but doesn’t call him out on the obvious lie. He resists the urge to sigh in relief, focusing his attention on the movie instead of the fact that MJ has all but abandoned her half-eaten food in favour of curling into Johnny’s side. It’s an exercise in will power, but he manages somehow. The fact that Chris Pratt is distractingly good looking probably helps some.

The characters onscreen start talking science – something about splicing DNA? – and Johnny has no idea what’s going on because biology has never been his strong suit, but even he’s aware that the movie science doesn’t exactly check out. He’s not sure why that bothers him, because it’s not like he even knows enough about genetics and stuff to be able to dispute whatever it is they’re saying, but for some reason he keeps expecting _someone_ to do exactly that.

MJ’s quiet though, watching the movie with rapt attention. Like before, Johnny’s suddenly hyper-aware of the empty space on the other side of him. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine a snicker every time a character on screen says anything scientifically inaccurate. It feels like a memory, but not quite.

Maybe an echo of a memory, like he’s standing at the edge of the cliff, on the brink of an epiphany if only he takes a step forward but his feet are frozen. It’s not a good feeling. Suddenly his chest feels tight, and he gets dizzy for a moment before he remembers to breathe.

 _Note to self, do_ not _think about the empty space_.

“I don’t think their science is very accurate,” Johnny comments, needing to hear his own voice out loud in an attempt to pull himself out of his head.

“It’s not,” MJ replies, because of course she’s smart enough to actually be able to follow what they’re talking about.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Johnny frowns.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels like it should bother MJ. It should bother someone. Hell, it bothers _him_ , and he doesn’t even understand what they’re saying half the time. She only shrugs though. “Not really,” she replies, “It’s just a movie.”

He’s just asked for her opinion and she’s given it to him. There’s no right or wrong answer, Johnny knows that. And yet, it feels like the wrong one anyway.

“Right,” he mutters, “Just a movie.”

MJ gives him a look. Johnny doesn’t like that look. He’s always been pretty good at hiding his feelings, but MJ’s the exception to that, always able to read him like an open book. “You’re acting weird,” she points out.

“I know,” Johnny says, because there’s no point denying it at this point, “I think maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep or something. My head feels a little fuzzy.”

At the admission, it’s like a switch is flipped, MJ going from mildly suspicious to very concerned in the blink of an eye. She almost falls into his lap in her haste to press a palm against Johnny’s forehead, remarking that he’s slightly warm. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’s only flushed because of her sudden proximity.

“MJ, I’m fine,” he insists, pulling her hand off his face.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder, tugging gently until she’s tucked against his side once more. She’s looking up at him with this little frown, and it’s honestly so endearing that Johnny can’t help but smile.

“Let’s just watch the movie, okay?”

She watches him for a moment longer, and Johnny lets her, returning her gaze evenly. Eventually, she seems satisfied that he’s fine, relaxing into the couch once more and returning her attention to the movie. Johnny turns his gaze back towards the television as well, but the strange feeling from before returns as soon as it’s quiet.

He squeezes MJ’s shoulder, then spends the rest of the evening trying his best not to think about it. 

**––––––––––**

Ever since the movie night with MJ, Johnny hasn’t quite been able to shake off that odd feeling, like he’s put a puzzle together but is missing one of the pieces. It comes and goes, for the most part, as long as Johnny doesn’t dwell on it too much, which he’s learned not to do after the close call with a panic attack on MJ’s couch.

Sometimes, he gets curious though, and in the privacy of his bedroom with the lights turned off, he’ll talk to the darkness, retelling the events of the day as if there’s someone listening. It makes him feel a little crazy, but it also eases the constant buzzing of _wrongwrongwrong_ in his head a little.

He has theories as to what the cause behind all this might be, ranging from ghosts to aliens to body snatchers. They’re all a little far fetched, but he comes from a family of scientists who’ve done vast amounts of research on the impossible, and last he’d checked in, Reed’s been working on some sort of inter-dimensional teleporter.

“That’s impossible,” Johnny had said that day in Reed’s lab, looking at the various complicated blueprints for a machine that seemed like it belonged in a sci-fi movie and not in real life.

“There’s no such thing as impossible,” Reed had replied, unbothered by Johnny’s scepticism, “Just because we haven’t figured out how something works yet doesn’t mean we never will.”

Johnny hadn’t thought much of it then – he loves Reed, has considered the man family ever since he and Sue first started dating almost, but he has an unfortunate tendency to tune out a good eighty-five percent of everything Reed says, and the other fifteen percent is lost on him anyway because Reed often forgets not everyone is a genius – but it sticks with him now.

Still, the fact that there might be an actual reason behind the weirdness of the past week doesn’t make him feel any less crazy whenever he finds himself turning to talk to someone who isn’t there. Johnny’s gotten a few concerned looks for doing exactly that in public, and at this point he’s also considering that maybe there’s no deeper meaning to this whole thing than just the universe being out to embarrass him.

Johnny’s walking by one of the F.E.A.S.T shelters when he has one of those moments, a strange tugging at his consciousness making him stop. The sensation is gone as soon as it comes, but the sight of the shelter reminds Johnny that he hasn’t seen Aunt May in a while and he’s promptly ashamed of himself.

Sue did her best to raise Johnny after their father’s passing and he will always be grateful for everything she’s done for him. But she’d been barely an adult herself back then, far too young to be saddled with the responsibility of being the guardian of a teenager –– much less one as hot-headed and reckless as Johnny. MJ’s widowed neighbour didn’t have any children of her own, and had taken it upon herself to make sure the Storm siblings knew that her home was always welcome to them.

She became a maternal figure to the both of them, but Johnny especially. When Sue had started getting busy with work, Johnny had felt neglected. He’d started acting out, getting into trouble in and outside of school. It worked in getting Sue’s attention, but it only made Johnny feel worse when faced with her frustration and disappointment. The fights between them had gotten really bad, and it wasn’t until Aunt May had suggested Johnny stay with her until Sue was less busy did things between them cool off.

Johnny had lived in Aunt May’s spare bedroom for a whole month, and her infinite patience coupled with her unwillingness to tolerate any of Johnny’s bullshit eventually wore away at his anger. Frankly, Johnny doesn’t think he would be half the man he is today if not for Aunt May.

He tries his best to keep in contact with her now, checking in every so often, but he’s been so distracted by the weirdness in his life that he hasn’t gotten the chance to drop by. Now that he’s remembered that he’s long overdue for a visit though, he doesn’t have to think twice before he changes course towards the nearest subway station, heading to Queens.

It’s only when he exits the subway that he thinks maybe he should have brought a small gift for Aunt May or something. There’s a vague memory of a bakery in the area though, one that Johnny’s certain someone has recommended to him before, though he can’t recall who. He finds the small bakery easily enough –– something about it feels familiar even though he’s never been there before, but Johnny simply chalks it up to the homely feel of the shop.

It’s warm inside, the smell of the baked goods enveloping him the moment he steps in. It reminds Johnny of when he lived with Aunt May; she would bake for him whenever he had a particularly bad day, and the smell of freshly-baked cookies or brownies or pie would fill the little apartment and linger for the entire day.

“How can I help you, sweetie?” the woman at the counter asks, smiling warmly at him.

Instead of taking some time to actually look at what they have, the answer slips out before he can stop himself, “Can I get a pecan pie to go?”

It’s only after he orders it does he actually spot the pie in question on display. Johnny’s not usually a big fan of nuts, but even he has to admit that the pie looks good. It smells even better than it looks too, Johnny getting a good whiff of it as it’s packed into a box and handed over to him. He thanks the woman after paying, feeling rather pleased about his choice until he’s halfway to the F.E.A.S.T shelter and suddenly remembers a crucial detail.

Aunt May is allergic to nuts.

He _knows_ this. He’s known Aunt May ever since he was a gangly-limbed teenager; there’s no way he could have forgotten something as important as a nut allergy. And yet he had gotten her a pecan pie, of all things. He has half a mind to turn back and buy something else, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to regret his choice of pie, and so he trudges on.

As expected, Aunt May is delighted when she sees him. Watching the way her expression softens – some of the worry lines easing – at the sight of Johnny makes him feel kind of awful for not coming to see her sooner. She leans in to hug him, and for a moment Johnny is seventeen again, drowning in a sea of his own anger and holding onto these very pair of arms as a lifeline.

“What’s this?” Aunt May asks as she pulls away, reaching for the box in Johnny’s hand.

“Pecan pie,” he admits, lips twisting into a sheepish grin.

“Oh, Johnny,” she sighs, “You know I’m––”

“Allergic to nuts,” he interrupts, “I know. Or, well, I remembered _after_ I’d already gotten the pie. I probably should have gone back to get something else, I don’t know why I didn’t do that.” Realising that he’s rambling, Johnny snaps his mouth shut suddenly, pausing for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Aunt May says, taking the box from Johnny and heading to the kitchen. Johnny follows. “I’m sure everyone else will be more than happy to help me eat the pie, especially...”

She trails off, staring at the box. But before Johnny can ask her what she’d been about to say, she’s speaking once more, “ _Next time_ , you can bring me something I can eat.”

Johnny catches the inflection in her tone, and even though Aunt May’s face remains kind, he hears the unspoken complaint anyway: _you don’t visit enough_.  

“I’m free next week,” he tells her, earnest in a way that makes him feel like a kid again, “Actually, I haven’t got much on for the rest of the month. I could help out if you need an extra pair of hands.”

Aunt May places the box on the counter before turning to Johnny once more, reaching for Johnny’s hand and squeezing lightly once its in her grasp. “I’d appreciate the extra help, but don’t feel like you have to just because this little old woman gets lonely sometimes.”

“You’re not that old,” he says, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything. It earns him a smile, though.

“Hush,” she says, although the twinkle in her eyes lets Johnny know she doesn’t mind the compliment at all, “I’ll always want to have you around, but I know that you boys are busy. I get it. So don’t worry about me.”

“You boys?”

Aunt May’s eyebrows draw together, confusion evident on her face. Johnny starts to feel like he’s going crazy again, thinks he should probably just drop the subject, and yet he’s unable to stop himself, “You said ‘you boys are busy’ earlier.”

“Did I?” She seems surprised by Johnny’s observation, her lips pulling into a frown. “I must have misspoken,” she says, as if it’s no big deal.

Except it _is_ a big deal, to Johnny at least. For a moment there, he’d felt like maybe he isn’t alone in this craziness after all, that maybe there’s some truth to the gnawing feeling that he’s forgotten something important. Now, he feels more alone than ever.

“Johnny?” Aunt May calls, and he hears the tinge of concern in her voice, “Everything okay?”

 _No_ , Johnny thinks, _I think I might be losing my mind._

“Yeah,” he says instead, forcing his lips into a smile he most definitely doesn’t feel. He hates the fact that he’s lying to Aunt May, but it doesn’t stop him from doing it all the same, “Everything’s fine.”

**––––––––––**

He dreams of brown eyes –– brown eyes, and warm hands, and a crooked nose. On another night, he sees the beginnings of a smile, slow and steady like the sunrise. The night before that it’s the memory of his hands in soft hair, his own voice ringing in his ears as he murmurs, _you need a haircut_.

They’re like flashes of a past life, but no matter how hard Johnny tries to piece them together it still feels like he’s looking through frosted glass. He forgets more than he remembers, he knows this. He often wakes up with a name on the tip of his tongue, but by the time his world blinks into focus the memory is long gone. It’s not that he’s never tried to hold onto it, but it’s as fruitless an endeavour as chasing shadows, or trying to hold water in his hands.

Sometimes, in the space between sleep and wakefulness, Johnny dreams of rough hands on his face and the insistent press of warm lips on his. This is his favourite dream of them all, but when the phantom sensations fade away, Johnny is left with nothing by cold sheets and an aching hollow in his chest.

Those days are the worst. Johnny doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he looks around his empty apartment anyway, hoping that maybe if he turns his head fast enough he’ll catch a glimpse of the spectre that’s been haunting him before it disappears yet again.

 _I’m being haunted_ is an easier truth to swallow than _I miss someone who might not exist_ , after all.

Johnny sighs, tugging his cap lower in an attempt to hide the bruises under his eyes. Lucy pauses in the middle of refilling his coffee, watching him thoughtfully.

“Maybe I should cut you off, cowboy,” she says, “You look like caffeine’s the last thing you need.”

Johnny appreciates her attempt to hide the concern underneath a layer of teasing, but it doesn’t make him feel any better about the sorry state he’s in. “One more cup?” he asks, trying for a charming grin that feels like a poor facsimile of his usual smiles, “If I fall asleep right now I don’t think you’d be able to wake me, and then you’d never be able to get rid of me.”

“I’d call MJ to come get you,” she retorts, but resumes pouring his coffee anyway, “This is your last cup. Don’t let me catch you trying to get more from Greg.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he returns, immediately wrapping his hands around the warm cup once it’s full.

“Do you want something to eat as well?”

Johnny’s about to say no, he isn’t hungry, but the words stick when he catches sight of Lucy’s reprimanding gaze. When was the last time he ate? He knows he’d had some pasta, but suddenly he’s not sure _when_ that had happened. Maybe he should see a doctor; not being able to trust your own memory is surely a sign of a bigger problem.

But first, maybe eating something will make him feel a little better. It makes Lucy feel a little better too, if the way her shoulders drop slightly in relief as she walks away after taking his order.

His phone buzzes as he takes a sip of his newly-refilled coffee, and he knows without looking at his screen that it’s MJ. He’s been blowing her off lately, not wanting to subject her to the mercies of the mood swings caused by lack of sleep. This time, he picks up his phone to reply though, not putting it past her to storm into his apartment in the middle of the night if he continues to ignore her.

The good thing about texting is that it’s easier to lie when he doesn’t have to look the other party in the eyes, especially since MJ’s always been good at picking him apart with just a single gaze.

She doesn’t seem to buy his _‘everything is fine, I’m just busy’_ excuse at first, but he knows her well enough to pinpoint the moment she accepts that he’s telling the truth, no longer trying to subtly coax him into telling her what’s wrong. Maybe it had been a mistake to ignore her for so long, because as they text back and forth, Johnny _does_ start to feel like himself again. Not quite good, but better, at least.

Until Lucy returns with his food, and he realises with a start that he’s ordered way too much food. There’s a double cheeseburger being placed next to the plate of blueberry pancakes, as well as a side of onion rings.

 _It’s enough for two_ , a voice in his head helpfully points out, although Johnny does his best to ignore it. He hadn’t really been paying attention when ordering anyway, it’s entirely possible that he’d subconsciously ordered more than usual in an attempt to make up for all the meals he’s missed before this.

But then Lucy places two chocolate milkshakes on the table, and suddenly the seat across from him looks lonelier than it had before.

“Did I order all of this?” Johnny asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Lucy confirms, “I thought maybe you were ordering for MJ as well.”

“No, MJ’s busy,” he says, then adds as an afterthought, “And she’s vegetarian.”

“Again?” Lucy snickers lightly.

That gets a smile out of Johnny at least. “Yeah, again.”

“Well,” Lucy says, “since MJ’s not coming, would you like me to pack some of this food to-go for you?”

“Yes, please.” Johnny pauses, contemplating for a moment before picking up the plate with the cheeseburger and onion rings, holding it out to Lucy.

“Got it,” Lucy smiles, taking the plate from him as well as one of the milkshakes, “I’ll keep it for you in the kitchen, just swing by the counter to pick it up before you leave, yeah?”

Johnny nods in understanding, and then Lucy’s gone, leaving him with the rest of his food. What little appetite he’d managed to muster earlier is completely gone now though, replaced by a lead weight in his stomach. Still, he forces himself to eat, anything to take his mind off the empty seat in front of him.

It doesn’t quite work. The chatter of the rest of the diners is drowned out by his chewing, but there’s a voice inside his head – that’s definitely not his own – going _Johnny, Johnny, Johnny_. It’s not a voice he recognises, although he has a feeling that he should.

“Shut up,” he hisses under his breath.

To his surprise, the voice actually stops. Huh. Maybe if he’d known earlier that that would work, he would’ve gotten some peace of mind long ago. Probably not, though. On his better days, when he doesn’t quite feel like he’s losing his entire grip on reality, Johnny actually likes the way the mysterious voice says his name, like the two simple syllables hold the secrets of the universe.

It’s ironic; he tries so hard to ignore the sound of his own name being spoken by a phantom that lives solely in his head, but the moment the voice does go quiet, Johnny just feels an overwhelming loneliness fill its place.

He runs on autopilot after that, finishing the rest of his food and heading to the counter to pick up the other half of his order and pay. Lucy wishes him a good night as he leaves and Johnny thanks her, even though he knows his night will be anything but good. The restlessness under his skin is growing again, and he’s thankful that the diner is within walking distance of his apartment as he hurries back.

Already he feels himself starting to unravel, hands shaking as a tightness grips his chest. Johnny’s tired and confused and he wants to be angry at whatever it is that’s causing all of this, but a part of him also wants to live in that moment before waking, when everything is soft and warm and there are hands and lips to accompany the whispers of his name in the quiet morning.

He makes it to his apartment in once piece but doesn’t linger, placing the food away in the kitchen before he’s climbing out the window and onto the fire escape. From there, it’s an easy climb up to the roof, where he sits with his legs dangling over the edge. Sue’s always telling him not to do that, that it’s dangerous. MJ, too. But there’s something about being up there that he finds comforting.

If he sits at the right spot, he can look right through all the buildings and spot Lady Liberty herself in the distance. Plus, there’s also a morbid sort of comfort he gets from being so aware of the fleetingness of life, knowing that one wrong move might send him tumbling off the edge and to his possible death.

Whatever the reason, a sense of calm washes over him as he watches the night lights of Manhattan, making him feel a little less like he’s two seconds away from crawling out of his skin. There’s a tiny speck that must be a helicopter flying over Liberty Island, and Johnny laughs.

“Remember when we––” he starts to say, turning to his side only to be reminded of the fact that he’s the only one on the rooftop. Something grips at his heart, but for the first time, he manages to swallow past the lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest eases.

He turns back towards the Statue of Liberty, clearing his mind and waiting for the words to come to him once more. Eventually, they do. “Remember when we talked about how fun it would be to have a picnic on top of the Statue of Liberty?” Johnny asks the quiet night.

He doesn’t say anything else for a long time, just sits there in silence until he gets cold and his fingers start to cramp from how hard he’s gripping the edge. He has one last question to ask before he leaves, though.

“Who are you?”

Johnny isn’t actually expecting a response, but he’s disappointed all the same when the only sound he hears is a police siren some distance away. “Thought so,” he mutters to himself, making his way to the fire escape once more and climbing back down to his apartment.

He crashes into his bed the moment he makes it into his room, all the previous nights of fitful sleep catching up to him. It’s not the first time Johnny’s spoken to the ghost, but it’s the first time he’s acknowledged any sort of history between the two of them. Nothing’s really changed; Johnny still has no idea what’s going on, or why this is happening to him, but he doesn’t feel like he’s trapped inside of his own head anymore.

If he’s going crazy–– well, at least he’s made his peace with it now. 

**––––––––––**

Johnny opens his eyes and he’s in his room, except it’s not his room. It _looks_ like his room, but something about it feels off somehow, like someone’s moved all the furniture half an inch to the left. And then of course there’s the question of the man standing at the foot of his bed.

Curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, and even though he’s only seen it in his dreams, Johnny feels like he would know those lips anywhere. “You,” he breathes.

The man smiles, and Johnny’s delighted to see that one corner of his mouth lifts up higher than the other. “Me,” he responds, just as soft.

Johnny sits up and the man moves to the side of his bed, jerking to a stop with a slightly wide-eyed look. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d been about to sit on the bed, and even if it did, Johnny’s nowhere near as dumb as people seem to think he is.

“Sit,” he says, and when the man hesitates, Johnny reaches out. He wraps his fingers around the man’s wrist, ignoring the way his heart rate picks up even at the simple contact, tugging lightly until he falls onto the bed. “What’s going on?”

The man’s smile falters a little, sadness creeping into those brown eyes. Immediately, Johnny regrets asking anything.

“You always ask me that,” the man says, hands folded in his lap, “You never remember.”

“I’ll remember this time,” Johnny insists.

The man laughs, and Johnny’s startled by the sudden realisation of how much he loves the sound of it. “You always say that too,” the man admits.

“What’s your name?”

There’s a flash of hurt that crosses the man’s features, so sharp even Johnny feels it, but his expression softens just as quickly. “Peter.”

“Peter,” Johnny repeats, and doesn’t miss the way Peter’s eyes fall to his lips as the name passes through them. “That’s a nice name.”

“You didn’t think so in high school,” Peter snickers, “Or well, in freshman year anyway.”

The mention of high school sparks something in Johnny, and he gasps softly as a memory clicks into place. “ _You’re_ the one who punched James Sanders in the face during gym.”

Somehow, Peter’s grin manages to be both proud and sheepish at the same time. “That move he pulled was totally illegal,” Peter shrugs.

“Didn’t think you were such a stickler for field hockey rules,” Johnny teases, and then frowns slightly as he gets an inkling of another forgotten memory. “That was really surprising though. I was sure you hated me back then...”

“That’s not true,” Peter protests, and then pulls a face at Johnny’s sceptical look, “Well, _hate_ is a very strong word. And besides, I think a lot of my animosity towards you was just misplaced jealousy.”

“You were jealous?” Johnny scoffs, “Of me?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, as if it’s really that simple, before rolling his eyes at Johnny, “It’s not that I wanted to be popular or anything, but it’s one thing to keep a low profile by choice and another thing to be invisible because no one else thought you were worth paying any attention to. And then there was you.”

Peter pauses, smiling distantly. Johnny wonders if he’s recalling the first time they met, but doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. “You could just stand there and people would fall over their feet to try and get your attention. _Everyone_ saw you, and you didn’t even have to try,” Peter looks up, catches his eye, “No one ever saw me.”

“ _I_ saw you,” Johnny says before he can help himself, and then proceeds to trip over his words in a poor attempt to try and sound less like a lovesick fool, “Hard to miss the hundred-pound twig who glared at me in every class.”

“Uh huh,” Peter grins, not sounding like he believes Johnny at all, and then more sincerely, “Even when we bickered, you always treated me like an equal. That’s why... when you went down during gym class and didn’t get back up, I saw red.”

“I hope the week’s worth of detention was worth it,” Johnny teases, trying to nudge another smile out of Peter.

“Johnny,” Peter laughs, and Johnny’s heart stops for a moment – it’s one thing to hear Peter’s voice calling his name in his head, and it’s another to actually hear it out loud – but then Peter continues talking and Johnny forces himself to get a grip. “Sixteen-year-old me hadn’t realised it then, but there are very few things I _wouldn’t_ do for you.”

After an admission like that, what else is Johnny supposed to do except fall into Peter’s lap and kiss him?

Peter freezes, and for one heart-stopping moment Johnny thinks maybe he’s read the entire situation wrongly, but then Peter is kissing back and Johnny’s brain immediately stops working. Peter’s stronger than he looks, his hands bracketing Johnny’s waist and pulling until he’s seated more securely on Peter’s lap, legs stretched out on either side of Peter’s hips. Johnny gasps a little at being manhandled, but is even more surprised to find that he doesn’t mind it at all –– might even _like_ it, in fact.

Of course, that doesn’t miss Peter’s notice.

“You like that?”

Peter’s breath fans hot and heavy over Johnny’s face, and instead of giving him any sort of verbal response, Johnny just leans in to close the gap between their mouths once more, kissing him with renewed vigour. Johnny’s hands move up Peter’s arms, pushing lightly until he’s lying flat on his back with Johnny straddling his hips.

Peter moans into Johnny’s mouth when Johnny grinds his hips down, but then suddenly his hands are on Johnny’s shoulders, not quite pushing away, but Johnny gets the message anyway, sitting back on his heels to give Peter some space.

“Too fast?” Johnny asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, not missing the way Peter’s eyes – pupils still blown impossibly wide – track the movement.

If the fact that Peter looks about as wrecked as Johnny feels isn’t enough of a consolation, then Peter sitting up so that he can press his lips against Johnny’s in a slower kiss definitely seals the deal.

“Are you kidding?” Peter grins, knocking his forehead against Johnny’s, “I’ve wanted to jump your bones for the better part of a decade now.”

“So what’s stopping you?” There’s an errant curl that hangs over Peter’s forehead and Johnny can’t help himself from reaching out to smooth it back.

Peter catches Johnny’s hand as he pulls away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss against his palm. “I don’t want to be the only one who remembers this.”

“I’ll remember,” Johnny insists.

“That’s sweet,” Peter says, dropping Johnny’s hand, “But you can’t promise that.”

“If I remember this the next time I see you again, though?”

He's not sure what he’s said wrong, but Peter’s entire demeanour shifts. His expression turns serious, and this time, when he grabs onto Johnny’s shoulders, his grip is tight enough to hurt a little. “We don’t have much time,” he says urgently, and then he must notice the way Johnny’s gone stiff under his hands because his gaze softens just a fraction.

There’s still an edge of apprehension in the furrow of Peter’s brow, but the slight bubble of panic Johnny had felt eases some as Peter continues speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten carried away, but _god_ it’s so hard when you look at me like that. I miss you, so, so much.”

“I miss you too,” Johnny confesses, taking one of Peter’s hands and pressing it against his chest, “I feel it right here, even when I don’t remember you.”

“Do you remember how I ended up here?” Peter asks.

Johnny tries to recall the last time he saw Peter, but even though he’s started to remember bits and pieces of teenage years together, when he tries to think back on more recent history, he comes up blank. The frown on his face must be answer enough for Peter, who continues, even more urgently, “It was at Horizon Labs, and when I hugged you I––”

Everything goes silent.

Johnny can still see Peter’s mouth moving, but there’s no sound. Or maybe there is still sound and Johnny just can’t hear it. He’s not exactly sure how the physics of this place works.

“I can’t hear you,” Johnny says, panicked, “I can’t hear you!”

Peter must realise what’s going on, because he stops talking, resignation settling on his features. The memory of their last parting hits Johnny then, and he feels a little like the wind’s been knocked right out of his lungs; the expression on Peter’s face too painfully similar to the one he had worn before the mysterious masked man had managed to break into the lab.

“I don’t want to forget you.” Johnny cups Peter’s jaw, trying desperately to commit the feel of Peter’s warm skin under his fingertips to memory even though he knows he will probably forget.

He still can’t hear Peter, but Peter speaks slowly enough that Johnny can read his lips. Already, Johnny misses the sound of Peter’s voice.

 _It’s okay_ , Peter says, and then the right corner of his lips twists slightly, as if he’s amused by an inside joke.

 _Johnny_ , he says slowly, _I need you to do something for me._

Johnny watches Peter’s lips move, and even though there’s no sound, he hears the words loud and clear anyway. It’s like déjà vu, their last goodbye happening all over again.

The universe is cruel, Johnny thinks, to tear Peter away from him _twice_. More than twice, actually, even if he doesn't remember all the other times. Peter does though, and Johnny's heart aches for him.

“Peter,” Johnny cries, “No. Don’t say it, please don’t say it.”

It’s irrational, but there’s a part of Johnny that holds onto the hope that maybe if Peter doesn’t say anything, if he deviates from the script, then maybe they can delay the inevitable. Peter leans in, pressing one last kiss against Johnny’s lips. Johnny wants to keep his eyes closed, hold onto this moment forever, but he forces his eyes back open, dreading Peter’s final words and yet wanting to hear them all the same.

 _Remember I love you_.

This time, unlike the last, Peter isn’t the one who’s yanked away. Instead, Johnny feels himself being pulled backwards, screaming as he’s wrenched from Peter’s grasp.

“Peter!” he yells, “ _PETER!_ ”

His world is spinning, faster and faster, everything around him blurring until Johnny’s not even sure which way’s up anymore. He thinks of Peter, sad and alone and forgotten, and suddenly he’s fighting again, trying to break free of whatever’s got a hold on him. He’ll crawl back to Peter, if that’s what it takes.

Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter.

And then everything goes black. 

**––––––––––**

Johnny’s jolted into consciousness with all the subtlety of a train wreck, leaving him disoriented for a good moment. He’d been having a good dream, he knows this with a certainty he can’t explain, but the harder he tries to recall any of the details, the more they slip away from him.

 _Peter_ stays though, the name ringing on endlessly inside his head without any sort of context to help him make sense of it. It feels important though, and Johnny scrambles out of bed the moment the world stops spinning, slamming his hip into the corner of his desk as he goes – _that’s going to bruise_ , he thinks idly – but even the sharp pain that blossoms at his side isn’t enough to slow him down.

He grabs the closest sheet of paper – a takeaway menu for Chinese restaurant two blocks away, go figure – and a pen, frantically scribbling down the name before that, too, is taken from him. Except writing it down doesn’t dissipate any of the anxious energy that’s thrumming in his veins, so he writes it again; over and over and over again, until the entire sheet is almost entirely black with ink.

“Peter,” Johnny says tentatively, and then again, with more confidence, “Peter.”

He’s not exactly expecting some sort of epiphany to hit him, he’s not really expecting anything, just testing the name out on his tongue, seeing how the syllables feel with his mouth wrapped around them. He’s wholly unprepared for the floodgate of emotions that hit him, as if _Peter_ is Johnny’s very own personal _open sesame_ to a vault filled with what feels like endless grief.

There’s an ocean of it and Johnny’s drowning; he opens his mouth to breathe and chokes –– it burns all the way down to his lungs, like seawater. He can almost smell the salt, feel the wetness of it.

It’s only when he feels the drop of moisture on his hand does he realise that he’s not imagining the salty wetness. He’s crying. Johnny honestly can’t remember the last time he’s cried, and there’s a small part of him that’s mortified at his inability to stop the tears, but he falls back onto his bed anyway, sitting on the edge of his mattress as he buries his face in his hands and cries.

The worst part of it all is that it’s not even cathartic. Johnny doesn’t feel any lighter once the tears stop, maybe feels heavier even, weighed down by something he hasn’t managed to figure out just yet. In the space where the grief had sat before within him, only an all-encompassing emptiness remains.

“What do I do, Peter?” he asks, and then laughs at the absurdity of it. Talking to ghosts is easier in the dark; in the light of day, Johnny only feels silly.

If the hairs on the back of his neck stand, accompanied by the fleeting sensation of a kiss pressed against the skin there, well; he’ll chalk it up to the open window and wishful thinking.

Johnny’s gaze catches on the movement of his curtains as they shift with the breeze. He’s reminded of the night before, and he tries to remember the peace he had felt up there on the rooftop, tries to hold onto that moment of quiet. He knows he can’t stay in his room forever though, and eventually he forces himself back onto his feet. The steps he takes after that are easier, no longer plagued by the fear of falling apart at the slightest movement.

He feels the silence in the apartment like a physical presence, following him as he leaves his bedroom and heads towards the kitchen. _Eggs, milk, bread._ Johnny grabs the ingredients without even really thinking about it, and it’s only when he grabs the pan off the dish rack does he shake himself out of autopilot.

“Guess we’re having French toast for breakfast,” he says, his voice too loud in the empty apartment.

It’s only when he’s about to crack his second egg when he realises that he’d said _‘we’_ , and mind suddenly elsewhere, he taps the egg against the side of the bowl with a little too much force. It goes everywhere; the yolk breaks all over the kitchen counter while a good chunk of eggshell makes it into the bowl.  For a solid two seconds, Johnny seriously considers just dumping everything into the sink, watch it go down the drain along with everything else in his life.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he scoops the bits of shell out of the bowl before proceeding to wipe the counter clean. Somehow, it’s enough to make him feel like he has some semblance of control over his life once more, and he savours the feeling, knowing that sooner or later the rug will be pulled out from underneath his feet once again.

Hoping some white noise will add a sense of normalcy, Johnny leaves the kitchen momentarily to switch the television on, leaving it playing in the background as he returns to fixing himself something to eat. It helps, the sound of the morning news just loud enough to distract him from the voices in his own head.

He thinks of Aunt May as he soaks the bread in his egg mixture, remembers all the mornings he’d woken up to the smell of French toast with a tinge of nostalgia. It’s funny, how the years seem to pass by in the blink of an eye, and yet in retrospect, all these memories feel like they happened a lifetime ago. Johnny had been different back then, rougher around the edges, angry at the whole damn world.

Sometimes, he wonders what kind of man he might’ve become if not for MJ and Aunt May, but he’s never let himself go too far down that path, afraid of what he might discover. Instead, he thinks about how grateful he is to have MJ and Aunt May.

 _And Peter_ , Johnny thinks, not of his own accord, but simply an undeniable truth making itself known, _Especially Peter._

Later, if asked, Johnny won’t be able to say what compelled him to look at the television then, just that he did. He catches the tail end of a news story about the cleaning up of the Hudson, but his attention is focused on the caption on the screen: MERCURY ENERGY REVOLUTIONISES CLEAN ENERGY.

Johnny steps out of the kitchen, leaving a slice of bread in the egg mixture that will most definitely be disintegrated by the time he returns – if he even does – but for some inexplicable reason, the news story about Mercury Energy seems more important. He listens as the news anchor details the research, talking about Parker Particles and what this new breakthrough in research means for the clean energy industry.

Johnny doesn’t understand a word of what’s being said, but somehow the thought of Mercury Energy being the one to claim ownership of the research doesn’t sit right with him. And so Johnny does what he always does whenever he doesn’t understand something –– he calls MJ.

She picks up on the first ring.

“What do you know about Mercury Energy?” he asks the moment the call connects, skipping all preamble.

Any other time, MJ might have complained about his manners, or lack thereof; this time her voice is grave as she responds to his question with one of her own, “Something about all this doesn’t seem right to you, either?”

It’s a rhetorical question – she knows Johnny wouldn’t have called her to ask about Mercury Energy if he hadn’t felt like something was amiss – but Johnny can’t help but breathe a quiet _‘no’_ in response anyway. After the past few weeks of feeling like he’s slowly been losing his mind, it’s almost something of a relief to know that there’s a possibility that his subconscious might actually be trying to tell him something.

“I was asked to do a story on the new energy source, so I did some research into the company,” she continues, words slightly muffled.

Johnny imagines her chewing on the end of her pen, the way she’s wont to whenever she’s deep in thought; the mental image almost makes him smile, despite the growing sense of unease. “Did you find anything?”

It’s a long shot, Johnny knows, but he can’t help the twinge of disappointment when MJ’s first response is a sigh. “No,” MJ admits, “Nothing. I found something about them working with Horizon Labs briefly a while back, and I thought I was onto something... but nope. Dead end.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up–– did you say _Horizon Labs_?”

“Yeah. Apparently the research into Parker Particles started off as a joint project, but then Horizon Labs pulled out, so Mercury Energy continued it on their own.” MJ pauses, and then, “Why did you say it like that?”

Horizon Labs shouldn’t hold any significance to Johnny at all, and yet he can’t shake off the feeling that it’s _important_ somehow. He’s heard Reed mention the research facility a couple of times, and there was that one time he’d zoned out and found himself outside the lab’s main building–– oh.

“MJ, I think you might have been onto something with that Horizon Labs lead after all,” Johnny tells her, dashing into his bathroom and dumping the entire contents of his laundry hamper onto the floor.

He can still faintly hear MJ’s voice filtering through the speaker from where he’s placed his phone on the sink, asking him what’s going on, but Johnny’s a man on a mission at the moment. _No, no, no,_ he thinks as he digs through his unwashed clothes, frustration mounting when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

He tries to think back to that night –– he’d returned home, exhausted, and crawled right into bed after kicking off his jeans. Grabbing his phone, Johnny moves to his bedroom instead, dropping to his knees at his bedside and grasping at the empty space between the floor and the bed frame. His fingers find purchase on something distinctly denim, and Johnny lets out a triumphant cry when he pulls his hand back and sees the very pair of jeans he’d worn that night.

Immediately, he’s digging through the pockets, heart in his throat when he discovers a small flash drive in one of his back pockets. “I found something!” he yells, tossing the jeans aside and picking up his phone once more.

“...can’t just put me on hold without telling me what’s going on, _asshole_...” Johnny manages to catch the tail end of MJ’s rant, but then she seems to register what he’d said, and when she speaks again, the whine is gone from her voice. “What did you find?”

Johnny uncurls his fingers, revealing the small black and red flash drive sitting in the palm of his hand. “I... don’t know,” Johnny answers, “I mean. It’s a flash drive, but I have no idea what’s in it.”

“Where’d you get it from?” MJ asks.

Johnny feels a little dumb when the answer to that question is yet another, “I don’t know.”

He does know that it’s the key to figuring out the cause of the weirdness that’s been plaguing his life ever since he’d found himself standing outside of Horizon Labs with no memory of how he’d gotten there though, even if he doesn’t exactly know _how_ he knows that. Johnny’s gaze falls on his unmade bed, and his throat closes up, suddenly sick with an unbidden yearning.

 _Peter,_ he thinks.

“What did you say?” Johnny’s saved from a repeat of that morning’s spiralling by the sound of MJ’s voice, although he notices the slight tremor in her words. “Who’s Peter?”

It’s part not wanting to sound like a broken record, and part not wanting to admit that he doesn’t know – _doesn’t_ _remember_ – who Peter is, but Johnny swallows the _‘I don’t know’_ that had been on the tip of his tongue, says instead, “Someone important.”

MJ seems to accept the answer, not questioning him any further on it. Johnny wonders if she might have known Peter too; if he’d been important to Johnny, then surely he must have meant something to MJ as well.

“What now?” MJ asks.

Johnny looks at the flash drive again. If he’s right, if the drive contains information about Parker Particles and Mercury Energy’s research, then he isn’t going to be able to understand a thing. It’s a good thing he happens to know the smartest man on the planet, though.

“We’re going to find out what’s on this flash drive,” Johnny tells her, and despite everything, a hint of excitement manages to find its way into his voice, “You and I have a mystery to solve.”

**––––––––––**

Twenty minutes later finds Johnny in the lobby of the Baxter building, waiting for MJ, who rushes in through the revolving doors not long after. Her hair’s been sloppily gathered into a bun, only getting messier every time she brushes a hand through it to keep the locks she missed out of her face. Her face is flushed, and she flashes him a breathless smile as she all but runs up to him.

Johnny holds his breath, braces for the swell of affection at the sight of MJ to crash over him and leave him scrambling to try and cover it up as best as he can. Except... it doesn’t happen. There’s nothing.

Well, not _nothing_ , because she’s still his best friend and he can feel the fondness he holds for her start creeping up on him, but it’s nowhere near as overwhelming as it usually is. Johnny remembers when the sight of her alone would hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, although the more he tries to recall those moments, the more they feel like made-up memories, like he’d dreamt them up and forgotten that they weren’t real.

“Hey,” she greets once she’s within earshot, “I’m guessing we’re here to consult Reed?”

Johnny decides the sudden extinguishing of the almost decade-long flame he’s carried for MJ can wait, shaking himself out of his thoughts before MJ notices that something is up and starts grilling him about it. Even if she didn’t have a talent for drawing the truth out of people – which she absolutely does; it’s a big part of why she decided to go into investigative journalism, he’s sure – Johnny’s always been painfully easy to read.

 _I can tell when you’re sad,_ a voice rings in his head suddenly, rising from the depths of his mind like a long-forgotten memory, _I can tell when you’re happy. I can tell when you’re angry, or hurt, or excited. I like that about you._

Johnny hates this feeling, this _knowing_ that he’s forgotten something but not being able to remember it, no matter how hard he tries. He’d thought he’d been losing his mind at first, and maybe he’s finally lost it, but he knows that Peter is real, _knows_ it with a certainty that he’s never been able to muster for anything else in his life.

He thinks back on the past few weeks and is suddenly struck by how much more he actually knows of Peter than he’d thought –– Peter’s the kind of guy who gets annoyed at inaccurate movie science, Peter likes pecan pie, Peter always eats a burger with a side of onion rings and a chocolate milkshake at the diner.

“Johnny,” MJ calls, her voice soft but firm, attempting to draw his attention back to the present situation at hand, “I need you to focus.”

 _Johnny_ , the voice – _Peter_ , he corrects – says, _I need you to do something for me._

 _What?_ Johnny thinks. _What do you need me to do for you?_

But there’s no response, only a resounding silence. MJ’s hand is still warm where she grasps his shoulder, but still, Johnny feels incredibly lonely all of a sudden.

“Yeah, sorry,” Johnny says, shaking himself out of his thoughts and offering MJ a small apologetic smile. The concern in her gaze is clear, and Johnny reaches for the hand that’s still on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. The gesture doesn’t ease all her worries, a faint wrinkle remaining between her brows, but her eyes do soften some.

Johnny starts moving towards the elevators, hitting the button to call for one. “I don’t know about you, but I know absolutely nothing about Parker Particles,” he says, a shrug accompanying the admission, “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get an expert opinion.”

“I... know the basics,” MJ says, offering him an apologetic smile when he mutters a quiet _‘of course you do’_ under his breath, “Only because I’ve had a couple more days than you to read up on it.”

Still, Johnny’s not exactly looking forward to being the dumbest person in the room. He doesn’t usually pay too much mind to people’s opinion of him – he’s well aware that he can come off as a dumb blond – but he does get a little self-conscious sometimes. He’s not stupid, not by a long shot, but it’s hard not to _feel_ stupid when he’s surrounded by actual geniuses.

The elevator arrives on the first floor and they get in, Johnny hitting the button for the top floor. They lapse into silence; it’s not exactly tense, but he knows MJ well enough to know that she’s holding her tongue. It’s not something she does often, usually always the first to speak her mind, and he wonders why she holds back now.

“What is it?” he prompts gently, watching the numbers climb as the elevator ascends.

Even when he hears her sigh, he keeps his gaze fixed on the display, giving her some semblance of privacy to collect her thoughts. Finally, she confesses, so quietly Johnny might not have heard her had he not been listening quite so closely, “I feel like I should know who Peter is.”

 _Welcome to the club_ , he thinks.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says instead, finally turning towards MJ, catching her gaze and offering what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “Together.”

The elevator dings as it reaches their floor and the doors open, but Johnny doesn’t move, waiting until the glazed look disappears from MJ’s eyes. It’s only when she turns to him, giving him a small nod, does he finally step out, MJ following close behind.

Johnny navigates the maze of hallways easily, guiding MJ through the labyrinth until they reach Reed’s main lab. He signals at MJ to wait, poking his head through the doorway to make sure it’s safe; last time, Reed had been testing his new security system, Johnny had learned the hard way that it was best to announce his presence before entering the lab.

“Reed?” he calls, spotting the man in question hunched over one of his work benches not far from the entrance. “Reed!” he calls a little louder when he gets no response.

That catches Reed’s attention, the man finally looking up from his work, glancing around the lab before his gaze finally lands on Johnny and MJ at the door. He waves them in, but sighs, “Johnny, for the _last_ time, your sister has made it clear that––”

“I’m not here about the flying car,” Johnny interjects, pointedly ignoring the amused snort coming from MJ’s general direction, “It’s about Mercury Energy.”

Reed frowns, “The ones that are on the news? They made the Parker Particle accelerator, yes?”

“Yeah, them.” Johnny strides in then, walking right up to Reed and holding out the flash drive he’d found in his jeans. “There’s something off about this whole thing –– MJ feels the same way; we just don’t know _what_. And if I’m right... I think there’s something important on this flash drive.”

Reed must see the seriousness on Johnny’s face, and he immediately abandons his current project to reach for the flash drive. Johnny follows him to the computer terminal, watching anxiously over Reed’s shoulder as he plugs it in.

“Oh,” is all Reed says when the drive finally syncs.

The flash drive is full of files, although Johnny doesn’t have the slightest clue what kind of information is in the documents, considering the fact that their names are all strings of numbers.

“They’re research reports, aren’t they?” MJ asks.

Now that she says that, Johnny’s starting to see a pattern to the numbers: _they’re dates_ , he realises. Immediately, his hand shoots out, pointing to the most recent document. He’s certain it’s not a coincidence that the last report had been written on the same day as when Johnny had mysteriously found himself outside of Horizon Labs.

There’s barely a twinge of surprise when Reed opens the file and the Horizon Labs logo is the first thing they see, right on the top of the page. Reed scrolls through the document faster than Johnny can read, and the few words he does manage to catch don’t make any sense to him at all. It can’t be anything good though, if the deep frown that’s settled on Reed’s face is anything to go by.

“What is it?” MJ asks as soon as Reed turns to them, wincing slightly at the clear impatience in her tone. Johnny doesn’t fault her for it though, the edge in her voice mirroring his inner turmoil. Reed doesn’t seem to notice, anyhow.

“It’s research on Parker Particles –– extremely detailed. Whoever wrote this had extensive knowledge of not just the particles, but also the accelerator designed to harness the energy given off by them, and...” Reed pauses, troubled, and it’s all Johnny can do to be patient and not shake the older man until he starts speaking again.

“It’s not good,” Reed finally continues, expression grim, “According to this, the accelerator works insofar as getting the particles moving fast enough that they generate energy, but as of the date this report was written, there is no technology capable of containing the particles’ expansion.”

No one says anything else after that, and Johnny looks between Reed and MJ, hoping that one of them will repeat whatever it is that Reed just said but in simpler terms, because he has absolutely no clue what any of that means. Except they remain quiet, and Johnny is two seconds away from tearing out his own hair.

“What does that mean?” Johnny asks, desperate to know what’s going on even if the look on both his companions’ faces tell him that in this case ignorance might truly be bliss.

“It means...” MJ starts, glancing worriedly at the screen, “When they turn the particle accelerator on during the unveiling, there’s a good chance that it might create a black hole that sucks in all of New York City. Maybe even the entire planet.”

“What?” Johnny manages in disbelief, any and all semblance of eloquence gone, “But... the report was from a month ago, maybe they’ve figured out how to make it work properly by now!”

Reed shakes his head. “The report does contain specs for a possible solution to the containment issue, but there’s no way that can be done in just a couple of weeks.”

Johnny barely hears him, his mind having gone blank the moment Reed had shaken his head. He’s not quite sure how to process all of this; he’d been hoping for some answers, but not only has he not gotten any of those, he's now been given a premonition of the end of the world.

“Where did you get the flash drive from, Johnny?” Reed asks.

Johnny blinks back to reality, although the ache inside him grows as he’s reminded that his only lead to figuring out who Peter might be had been a dead end. “Peter,” Johnny answers, just as his gaze falls on the document again _. Parker Particles. Peter. Parker... Peter..._ It clicks–– “Peter Parker!”

Both Reed’s and MJ’s gazes immediately zero in on him, but Johnny barely even notices. It’s like the floodgates have been opened, and _years’_ worth of memories of Peter are suddenly rushing in to fill the gaps in Johnny’s mind. It’s overwhelming –– too much to process in too little time.

Grief starts to prickle at the edges of his consciousness as well; he might remember Peter now, but it doesn’t change the fact that Peter’s still lost to him, out of his reach. Johnny feels emptier than ever, now that he knows what exactly – _who_ , in this case – he’s missing.

“I was with Peter, that night––” The words leave him in a rush, his brain working in overdrive to try and make sense of everything. “He said he couldn’t tell me what was going on because it’d make me a target, but he must have slipped the flash drive into my pocket when he hugged me.”

Or maybe it had happened when they’d kissed, but Johnny’s trying very hard not to think about that. He’s barely holding it together at this point, and he really doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with what the kisses had meant, or if they’d meant anything at all beyond a simple ‘sorry’ and ‘goodbye’.

“How is it possible?” Johnny turns to Reed, “How can someone be erased almost entirely from existence?”

Reed doesn’t answer immediately, but Johnny can practically see the gears turning in his head, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “I’ve gotten alerts about rifts in our dimension the last few months,” Reed says, “They were brief, opening and closing in a micro-instant, and I’d assumed that they were just an unfortunate side-effect of my own research into inter-dimensional travel, but it seems like I was mistaken. If my data on the rifts is accurate, Peter is likely stuck in a... pocket dimension, of sorts.”

Honestly, Johnny’s kind of tired of not understanding what’s going on.

“That doesn’t explain how we all forgot about him,” Johnny points out, his frustration bleeding into his words. Somehow, he can’t find it in himself to feel bad about it; he already feels the beginnings of a headache at his temples from the sudden influx of his missing memories earlier, he really doesn’t need Reed making things worse with his complicated science mumbo-jumbo.

“It could be a sort of universal homeostasis,” Reed replies, going on to explain when he catches Johnny’s lost look, “Basically, the universe has to be in balance. We’re not meant to travel outside of our dimension, so when that happens, it throws the universe out of balance. The universe then compensates by “resetting” and making it like the object – or person, in this case – never existed.”

Reed’s on a roll now, though. Johnny can’t believe he’d forgotten how easy it is for his brother-in-law to get carried away whenever he gets started on a new theory. “I’ve been researching on inter-dimensional travel, you know that,” Reed says conversationally, although he doesn’t actually give Johnny a chance to respond before he’s rattling on once more, “I’ve sent various objects through the teleporter I built and it’s never yielded any results, but maybe I _have_ succeeded, and I just don’t _remember_ it.”

“That’s cool and all,” Johnny cuts in, not really meaning it, but needing Reed to focus before he gets distracted by theoretical science again, “But what I want to know is –– can we bring Peter back?”

Reed purses his lips in thought. Johnny holds his breath until Reed nods. “I’m fairly certain I can do it,” he says, “but it might take some time.”

“Mind if I copy the files from the drive?” MJ asks, and Johnny’s almost ashamed to admit that he’d forgotten that she was there at all, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of her voice. He tries to play it off, but she shoots him an unimpressed look and he at least has the decency to flush. “We need to stop Mercury Energy from switching that particle accelerator on, and I’m thinking an exposé on the instability of the machine might just do the trick.”

“Go ahead,” Reed says, gesturing at the computer terminal.

MJ pulls out her own flash drive from her pocket, plugging it into the terminal as well, but when she selects all the files and copies them, the computer freezes, warnings about corrupted files popping up and covering the entire screen.

“No, no, no,” MJ mutters to herself, frantically closing all the dialogue boxes.

By the time the screen is clear once more, all the files are gone. MJ lets out a small, wounded noise, hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles turn white. Johnny can only stare at the screen in disbelief.

“The flash drive is a paradox,” Reed realises, “Since Peter doesn’t technically exist, the contents of his flash drive shouldn’t either.”

“What can we do now?” There’s ice in Johnny’s veins, a numbness spreading through his body that he is powerless to stop, a hopelessness that threatens to pull him under. After all, what’s the use in trying to bring Peter back if they’re all just going to get sucked into a black hole anyway?

“We bring Peter back,” Reed says, determined, “If we’re lucky, everything will be restored to how it was before, including all of his research.”

 _If we’re lucky._  He gets that Reed is trying to be optimistic, he really does, but after so many weeks of feeling like he’s going out of his mind, Johnny thinks he’s finally at his limit. There’s a maelstrom of emotions within him, all vying for his attention, but as he storms out of the lab, guilt and anger are the most prominent ones.

“Johnny,” MJ calls, following after him.

“How could I have forgotten him?” Johnny spins on her, voice dripping with self-loathing. “I’ve been in––” he manages to bite his tongue before the truth slips out, but he can’t stop himself from finishing the sentence in his head: _I've been in_ _love with him_.

“I’ve been his best friend ever since high school,” he corrects, “How could I just––”

His voice breaks pathetically then, and Johnny has to stop talking so he doesn’t just burst into tears on the spot. Instead, he leans against the closest wall, sliding down until he’s seated in the hallway, hugging his knees to his chest. MJ settles beside him, her touch gentle but firm when she wraps an arm around his shoulder.

“We all forgot,” she says, as if that makes it any better; Johnny’s heart only clenches further at the thought of _all_ the people Peter loves forgetting about him. “I don’t think we’re even supposed to remember him at all, but you did.”

“You remember him too,” Johnny points out.

It’s maybe the wrong thing to say, because he can feel the way MJ’s grip on his shoulder tightens for just a fraction of a second, and when he turns to look at her he catches something like resignation in her expression before she schools her features into neutrality once more.

“I don’t,” she says, “Not really. I know that there’s a Peter-shaped hole in my life, and I have... an impression, maybe, of who he was to me, but I don’t really remember him. Not the way you do, anyway.”

There’s a pause then, and a quiet that neither of them seem to want to break falls over them. But curiosity eventually gets the best of MJ, and she asks, quietly, “We’re not really best friends, are we?”

Johnny startles. He’d thought she might ask him to tell her about Peter, not this. “Why would you think that?”

MJ removes her arm from Johnny’s shoulder, mirroring his pose and wrapping both arms around her knees instead, shrugging lightly. “Like you said, Peter's your best friend,” she says, and although she’s trying her best to hide it, Johnny can tell how miserable she feels anyway, “All those times recently, when you acted weirdly whenever we hung out, it’s because everything we did together were things you usually did with Peter, isn’t it? Not me.”

“Yeah,” Johnny admits hesitantly, not seeing the point in lying but not wanting to hurt her either.

He looks at her then, and is surprised by the fondness he feels, even with his proper memories back. Their memories of having been best friends as teenagers might have been fake, but the time they’d spent together in the past month was real, and Johnny’s not ashamed to admit that MJ has been a big part of the reason he hasn’t fallen apart despite the growing weirdness of his life.

“We were always friends though,” Johnny adds, belatedly attempting to soften the blow of the truth, “And hey, if New York doesn’t get swallowed by a black hole, you’re definitely getting upgraded to proper best friend status. Nothing strengthens a friendship quite like a surviving a catastrophic, potentially world-ending event together, after all.”

Johnny’s pleased with himself when MJ laughs at that, and then they lapse into silence again, but this time it’s companionable, the pair of them just quietly seeking comfort in each other’s presence until eventually they both start to get restless. Johnny’s the first to get to his feet, offering his hand to MJ who gladly takes it.

When they return to the lab, they find Reed already busy at work. Johnny hates to interrupt, especially since he knows Reed is their best chance at getting Peter back, but now that the grief of losing Peter has settled somewhat, Johnny’s focus has shifted to the more pressing matter at hand –– the impending unveiling and demonstration of Mercury Energy’s particle accelerator.

“Reed?” he calls, “How sure are you that the research will return once Peter is back?”

Reed pauses, brows furrowing as he seems to think it over. “Not very sure at all,” he admits, “Maybe about 72%.”

Johnny’s not even going to ask how he came up with that number. Instead, he glances over at MJ, only to find her already watching him. There’s something about her gaze that lets Johnny know that she’s thinking the same thing he is: 72% is not good enough. He raises an eyebrow at her and she nods in response. Reed watches their silent conversation, frown deepening.

“What are you two planning?” he asks, hesitant, as if he’s aware that he’s probably better off not knowing. Smart man.

“Don’t worry about us,” Johnny tells him instead of giving a proper answer, already moving towards the door once more, “Just focus on getting Peter back.”

The last thing Johnny hears before he closes the lab door behind him is Reed telling them not to do anything stupid, as if he doesn’t already know that Johnny’s never done anything _not_ stupid in his life. Despite the dangers, there’s a little bit of excitement thrumming in his veins, and from the poorly concealed beginnings of a grin on MJ’s face, it’s clear that she feels the same way.

“You up for a heist?” he asks.

MJ’s grin is almost predatory. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**––––––––––**

It’s not the most sophisticated of plans, but given the time constraint, Johnny’s rather proud of it. He and MJ had headed to Mercury Energy headquarters after leaving the Baxter building, and MJ had whipped out her press pass, getting herself a tour of the place. It’s not quite the same as staking the place out to memorise the security patrol routes – Johnny’s watched enough spy movies to know how to execute a B&E... theoretically, of course – but knowing where the research is will at least help them get in and out quicker.

They wait until after-work hours, and it’s only when most of the employees have cleared the building do they reconvene in the lobby.

“Here, wear this,” MJ orders the moment she spots him, grabbing his hands and pressing something into them.

When Johnny looks down, he sees an ID on a lanyard, one belonging to an Erik Svenson. They look nothing alike, but the man in the photo does have blond hair and blue eyes, so as long as no one looks _too_ closely, they probably won’t question it.

“Where did you even get this?” Johnny asks, mildly awed as he places the lanyard around his neck, following MJ as she pivots on her heels and starts to head towards the elevator.

“Snagged it off the guy when he wasn’t paying attention,” MJ replies casually, as if stealing an ID off a person _wearing_ it is an easy task. Johnny’s both impressed and a little bit afraid of her, making a mental note to ask her where she’d learned to do that. Preferably once they’re not in danger of being caught trespassing and sent to jail.

The elevator is, thankfully, empty when it arrives, and they don’t encounter anyone else on their journey up. Johnny lets MJ lead the way, although he follows closely so it doesn’t look too much like he doesn’t know where he’s going. Erik Svenson probably knows this place like the back of his hand, after all.

There’s no sign of any other people, the hallways quiet save for the sound of their footsteps. Although he keeps his gaze trained forwards, he can feel MJ watching him.

“What?” he asks, when the staring starts to make him feel uncomfortable, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling under her scrutiny.

MJ finally turns away then, although she does say, “You should tell him how you feel. Peter. When we get him back.”

Johnny nearly trips over his own feet. He knows his feelings for Peter are pathetically transparent, but he hadn’t expected MJ to actually call him out on it. “What?” he says, attempting to scoff, but the sound comes out a little choked, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

MJ laughs, and the clear amusement in it settles Johnny’s nerves some. “I remember more now,” she confesses, “not everything, but it’s slowly coming back to me. No offence, but you’re pretty terrible at hiding your feelings. Everyone’s known for _years_.”

He’s well aware of the fact, but it doesn’t stop him from feigning offence anyway, sticking his tongue out at her. “And you’ve ignored it for years,” he points out, “What’s with the sudden intervention?”

“I just remembered that Aunt May and I have an ongoing bet,” MJ cocks her head at him, grinning, “on when you two will finally get your shit together. I’ve got $50 on the end of the year, so you better hurry.”

Johnny really shouldn’t encourage this, but he’s curious–– “What did Aunt May bet on?”

MJ’s grin only widens. “After someone’s first marriage fails.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Johnny argues, although the heat that creeps up probably says otherwise. That, and the fact that he’s having a hard time meeting MJ’s eyes at the moment.

“Were you planning to ever tell him how you feel?” MJ asks.

Well, she’s got him there. “No,” he admits sheepishly. They’re quiet for a moment, and there’s something Johnny needs to ask her, although he’s afraid to hear the answer. Still, he needs to know. “Are you really okay with this?” he asks, “Since you’re Peter’s ex and all...”

The few seconds it takes for MJ to answer feel like several eternities to Johnny, but eventually, she does. “I do love him,” she says, and Johnny feels his heart in his throat, “but I’m not _in love_ with him, not anymore.”

Johnny’s not quite sure what to say to that, but it’s just as well, because MJ suddenly dashes forward, disappearing into one of the rooms. By the time he enters, she’s already hunched in front of a computer, plugging her flash drive into the USB port.

MJ copies all the files on the computer onto her flash drive, and the pair of them watch anxiously as the green progress bar slowly grows. The transfer is almost complete when the door swings open, and Johnny almost whips around in panic before realising that he should probably play it cool, forcing himself to turn slowly, as if disinterested in whoever’s at the door.

The first thing Johnny notices when he sees the person at the door is that she looks young, in her late teens probably. His gaze drops to the ID hanging around her neck then, and he’s unsurprised to see the word ‘INTERN’ displayed prominently on the badge. Hopefully, this intern – _Karen_ , according to her pass – doesn’t actually know who Erik Svenson is.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling only slightly bad about the way she tenses at his stern tone, “This is a restricted area.”

“I––” she stutters, “I was just...”

She’s interrupted by an alert from the computer, notifying them of the completion of the transfer. Johnny ejects MJ’s flash drive before walking over to the girl who’s still standing awkwardly in the doorway. She shrinks away slightly for him, and _now_ Johnny feels guilty for how cold he’d been. Tentatively, he places a hand on her shoulder, and when she looks up at him in surprise, he offers a small, apologetic smile.

“Go home, Karen,” he tells her, voice warmer than before, and a conspiratorial twinkle in his eyes when he adds, “We don’t pay interns enough for you to be hanging around here after-hours.”

“Okay, Mr Svenson,” the girl says, nodding, “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

“It’s okay,” Johnny reassures, adamantly ignoring the way MJ looks like she’s holding in her laughter, “Just remember to knock next time before you enter any room.”

Karen nods again, more vigorously this time, and then glances briefly at Johnny before practically running away, leaving Johnny mildly confused about the entire exchange. He watches her disappear down the hallway, raising an eyebrow curiously at MJ when she joins him at the doorway.

“I wasn’t _that_ scary, was I?” he asks, puzzled by the intern’s odd, shifty behaviour.

MJ snickers, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t think she was scared of you,” she teases, “Erik Svenson’s going to be pretty confused when he learns that one of the interns has a little crush on him.”

_Oh._

Instead of dignifying that with any response, Johnny simply stalks off down the hallway, ignoring MJ’s delighted laughter as she hurries after him. They manage to make it back down the lobby without bumping into anyone else, although Johnny’s insides don’t unclench until they’re both safely out of the building.

“I’m going to call an Uber,” MJ announces once they hit the sidewalk, glancing over at Johnny, “Do you want me to drop you off at home?”

Even when he hadn’t remembered Peter, his apartment had felt too empty, too cold. Now, he doesn’t think he can be alone at home and not see Peter in all of the empty spaces –– Peter sprawled on his couch during game nights, Peter in his kitchen when Johnny’s too lazy to cook, Peter in his bed when he crashes at Johnny’s after ending work too late to catch the subway home.

“Can you drop me off at the Baxter building instead?” he asks.

MJ’s gaze softens. “Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll drop you off, go home to grab my laptop, and then join you at Reed’s.”

Vaguely, Johnny wonders if she’s offering her company for his sake, or if she’s just as afraid of being alone as he is. Maybe there are ghosts in her apartment too.

“Okay,” he agrees, and then pretends not to notice the way relief floods into MJ’s eyes.

**––––––––––**

Johnny tries not to hover too much while Reed works, but it’s hard. MJ’s busy writing a tell-all on Mercury Energy’s catastrophic negligence of safety standards that they know will put millions of life at risk, while Johnny paces, trying – and failing – to get rid of the nervous energy. Eventually, Reed puts a wrench in his hand and has him help out with the construction of the teleporter.

He’d been hesitant at first; he’s always been good at building things, but Johnny usually fixes cars up, not inter-dimensional teleporters. This is way too important to screw up, but Reed had clapped a hand on his shoulder, and held a wrench out to him with his other hand, not moving away until Johnny had taken the tool and gotten to work.

They’ve been working for the better part of two days when Sue shows up to call Reed down for breakfast. “You two are more than welcome to join too,” Sue offers, “There’s plenty of food.”

“If you cooked then I’ll pass,” Johnny retorts, the bolt Sue throws at him narrowly missing his head as he ducks.

“Alicia cooked,” Sue informs blithely, as if she hadn’t just tried to give her own brother a concussion.

Johnny’s about to say yes, but he’s interrupted by MJ. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll just stay here,” she says, “I’m almost done with the article.”

“I’ll stay here too,” Johnny decides, dropping into the closest chair and wheeling himself over to where MJ is.

Sue looks like she’s about to protest, but closes her mouth when Reed only shakes his head slightly at her. “Okay,” she relents, “I’ll just have Reed bring the leftovers up for you two when we’re done.”

“You sure you don’t want to go eat with your family?” MJ asks once Sue and Reed are gone, although her attention returns primarily to her laptop.

“Nah,” Johnny answers, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward to rest his chin on his forearms, “I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Don’t start getting mushy on me now,” she says, and although her face is hidden from his view, he can hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m not,” he retorts half-heartedly, and then leaves it at that, content to doze as MJ continues typing away.

He’s roused from his quick nap by MJ shaking him lightly, and her frown is the first thing he sees when he manages to blink his surroundings back into focus. “Is something wrong?” he asks, panic spiking.

The world spins when he sits up too quickly, and immediately MJ’s reaching for his shoulders to steady him. “I was just wondering...” she starts, “We never really thought about _how_ Peter ended up in a pocket dimension.”

“Mercury Energy did it,” Johnny answers. He’s well aware of the implications of that; trapping Peter in an alternate dimension – and effectively causing his entire existence to be erased – could probably be considered murder, in a way. It’s a weighty accusation to throw around, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense to him.

“Peter must have been trying to stop them from going through with the unveiling,” Johnny reasons, “He probably warned them of what would happen, but they didn’t want to hear it, and they couldn’t risk him going to the media with what he knew.”

“Seems a little much though, don’t you think?” MJ asks, although she looks like she’s seriously considering Johnny’s explanation.

He only shrugs. “Corporate espionage and sabotage kind of go hand in hand,” he says, and then seeing her worried expression, reassures, “Once your article is out there, they’ll be put to justice, I’m sure.”

MJ nods, then goes back to writing, leaving Johnny to his thoughts once more. He’s been trying not to think about it, but inevitably, his thoughts always drift to what’s going to happen when they complete the teleporter, when he finally sees Peter again. Johnny hadn’t even remembered Peter for most of the time he’d been gone, so really, he shouldn’t miss the other man as much as he does, and yet...

The thought of having spent the past month living in a world in which Peter Parker does not exist makes Johnny feel a little sick, grief and guilt curling in his gut.

 _Remember I love you,_ Peter had said.

He’d only asked one thing of Johnny, and even then he’d failed Peter. How could he have forgotten? How could he ever forgive himself for forgetting?

He’s saved from spiralling further by Reed’s return. The older man places a plate of scrambled eggs down next to MJ’s laptop and she mutters a quiet _thanks_. What little hunger Johnny had felt earlier is completely gone now though, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to eat anything until they get Peter back.

Reed seems to understand, getting right back to work and not saying anything when Johnny joins him without having any of the food. They work in relative silence, none of the room’s occupants saying anything until Johnny secures the last component of the teleporter in the place.

“It’s done,” Reed announces.

Johnny’s attention is so focused on the complete teleporter that he doesn’t even flinch at the loud clang of MJ’s chair being knocked to the ground with how quickly she stands, rushing over to join Reed. It takes Johnny a second to realise he’s standing too close to the machine, and with a few steps back, he joins the other two.

“Will it work?” MJ asks.

It would’ve been easy for Reed to be offended at her seeming lack of faith in his genius, but her uncertainty is mirrored in his voice when he speaks. “Probably,” he says, “Only one way to find out. Everyone ready?”

“Yes,” Johnny says immediately, and then, “No.” Both Reed and MJ turn to him, concerned, but he flashes them his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Do it anyway.”

He feels Reed watch him for a moment longer, and then satisfied that Johnny’s not quite in danger of an imminent breakdown, switches the teleporter on. It starts with a flash of light –– Johnny’s briefly blinded, but when his vision clears, there’s a sheen of blueish purple spreading between the two arms of the teleporter until it fills the space entirely.

They wait.

The teleporter buzzes faintly, the only sound in the otherwise quiet lab. Eventually, a figure appears in the distance. With some surprise, Johnny realises the man is too stocky to be Peter, and he remembers with a start that Peter had had a team of scientists on the project with him. Johnny can’t help himself from wondering if any of their loved ones realised they were missing, or if they had been forgotten entirely.

The other members of Peter’s team at Horizon Labs step out one by one, and Reed goes up to each of them to give them a brief update on the situation at hand, which Johnny is thankful for. Both he and MJ remain rooted to their spots, refusing to take their eyes away from the portal for even a fraction of a second.

And then finally, _finally_ , Peter appears.

MJ rushes forward the moment Peter crosses the threshold, throwing herself into Peter’s open arms. Johnny watches them, heads bowed together, whispering to each other. He thinks maybe he can make out MJ’s frantic _I remember, I remember, I remember_. They hug for a long moment, and Johnny doesn’t feel the need to step in.

There’s a part of him that’s _grateful_ , even, for the drawn out reunion between the two, because Johnny feels like he’s barely holding himself together at the moment, on the cusp of falling apart. But eventually, Peter and MJ draw apart, and she turns towards Johnny as she takes a step back, giving him a pointed look as she nudges Peter in his direction.

Peter’s gaze finds his, and Johnny forgets how to breathe. The past two days he’s worked tirelessly on the teleporter just so he can see Peter again, but now that he’s actually _here_ , Johnny’s a little overwhelmed, not sure what he's supposed to do. How is one supposed to react when the love of their life returns from the dead? He hardly dares to blink, afraid that this is all in his head and that the illusion might break if Johnny takes his eyes off of Peter for even a second. He wants _so badly_ to run into Peter’s arms like MJ had, but the fear that it’s all a mirage – a cruel trick of the light and a desperate mind – keeps him in place.

Peter is the one who takes the first step towards him, looking at him like he’s the most precious thing Peter’s ever laid his eyes on and Johnny could cry. The first word out of Peter’s mouth is his name – _Johnny_ , Peter says, equal parts fond and exasperated, like the past few weeks have been nothing but a fever dream – and something in Johnny caves. He surges forward, one step, two steps, three steps, until he is close enough to pull Peter into his arms.

Peter is solid under his fingertips, warm, and alive, and _here_. He digs his nails into Peter’s shoulders, holding him against his chest so tightly it must hurt, but Peter only wraps his arms around Johnny with equal force.

“It’s okay,” Peter whispers, over and over and over again, and even though his voice is steady, Johnny can feel the rest of him tremble.

Johnny buries his face in the crook of Peter’s shoulder, presses his mouth to Peter’s pulse point and seeks comfort from it, every jump a reminder that Peter is real and in his arms. Peter’s hands are on his back, alternating between rubbing circles between his shoulder blades and clutching at his shirt as if he, too, is afraid that this is all a dream and Johnny might disappear the moment he lets go.

Johnny might’ve stayed like that for the rest of eternity if he could, but there’s a question on his mind that weighs heavier on him the longer he remains wrapped in Peter’s embrace, until eventually he pulls away, burning with the need to know.

“Everything that happened, that you said and you did before you––” Johnny chokes up, the memory of losing Peter suddenly too raw to talk about so he skips over it, “Did you mean it? Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?”

“It _was_ a heat of the moment thing,” Peter admits.

The words are like ice in his veins. The universe really is against him, Johnny thinks, to give him a taste of the one thing he wants more than anything only to tear it away from him in the end. Suddenly, standing this close to Peter is too much –– and not in a good way. It’s sensory overload in the worst of ways, and Johnny feels the sudden urge to take a scalding hot shower and rub his skin raw until all traces of Peter are gone.

Distantly, he knows getting rid of Peter will never be that simple.

Still, he can’t be close to Peter right now. He starts to pull away, but Peter’s grip is firm, hands moving from Johnny’s shoulders to cup his face. Johnny presses his eyes shut, not wanting to see the pity in his best friend’s eyes, because there’s no way Peter hasn’t figured out how Johnny feels about him.

“Johnny,” Peter calls, so gently that Johnny almost cries; as it is, he only lets out a soft whimper, “Johnny, look at me, _please_.”

It’s the _‘please’_ that gets him, the mix of earnestness and desperation calling to him. It doesn’t make sense for Peter to sound so torn up if he doesn’t feel anything for Johnny. A sliver of hope cuts through the darkness of Johnny’s mind and he holds onto it, slowly opening his eyes.

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” Peter repeats once he has Johnny’s attention, “but that doesn’t mean I hadn’t meant it.”

Johnny searches Peter’s face, looking for a sign that this is just a cruel prank, but he finds nothing apart from absolute sincerity. He opens his mouth to speak but the words stick in his throat, all of the emotions he’s kept bottled up since he was eighteen and realised that he was in love with his best friend suddenly rushing to the surface.

“I love you,” Peter says.

Johnny hadn’t gotten the chance to say it back the first time, but he refuses to let that be the case now. “I love you too,” he returns, the words coming out in a rush after being held in for so long. “I love you _so much_.”

He can’t say for sure who leaned in first, but suddenly he’s aware of Peter’s lips on his, and Johnny decides right then and there that he’s most definitely not going to be the first to pull away. It’s not a particularly frantic or heated kiss, nothing at all like the first one they shared. It’s not like the second one either, because this time Johnny feels like he has all the time in the world to do this –– the world will not end when Peter pulls away.

“I’m never letting you go ever again,” Johnny whispers against Peter’s lips.

He _feels_ Peter laugh more than he hears it, the vibrations moving from Peter to Johnny from where their chests are pressed together.

“Never going anywhere without you ever again,” Peter promises.

**––––––––––**

Johnny’s at the diner alone again.

He’s in a good mood though, humming to himself as he scrolls idly through his phone, dipping slightly only when he overhears the news channel that’s playing in the diner mention the head of Mercury Energy. Johnny doesn’t quite understand why the trial is taking so long when there’s so much evidence of wrongdoing, and he hates the thought of Peter having to go to court to give his testimony.

Johnny has nightmares about it sometimes –– they both do, occasionally waking up in a panic, terrified that they’ll find the other half of the bed empty. One time Johnny had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and when he’d returned to bed he’d found Peter curled up into a ball, shaking. He’d latched onto Johnny the moment he’d returned, refusing to let go; Johnny had held him the entire night, watching as Peter eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

Lucy comes over then, her smile a welcome distraction from the dark turn Johnny’s thoughts had taken. “Your boyfriend’s running late again?”

It still fills Johnny with an almost childish thrill every time someone refers to Peter as his boyfriend, and he can’t help but grin. “Nah,” he tells her, “I’m just early. He should be getting here any time now.”

Right on cue, the bell on the diner’s door jingles as a customer steps in. It’s Peter, who grins the moment he spots Johnny.

“Hey,” he greets, walking over to Johnny and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth before sliding into the other side of the booth. “Am I late?”

“No,” Johnny replies, hooking his ankle around Peter’s under the table, remembering when Peter had done the same thing years ago. The memory of it makes Johnny smile.

“You’re right on time.”


End file.
